


Change of Phase

by mikeneko



Category: Wild Half
Genre: Dubious Consent, Furry, Hideous Pajamas, Multi, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2005, recipient:qwerty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-07 21:58:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikeneko/pseuds/mikeneko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Salsa's on the trail of a local killer, but why has he been shutting Taketo out of his investigation? Taketo wants answers, but he may not like what he learns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change of Phase

**Author's Note:**

  * For [qwerty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwerty/gifts).



> Wild Half by Yuuko Asami is a 17-volume manga from Jump Comics. (This plays fast and loose with the original and completely ignores much of the last volume, so let's consider it an AU.) Written for Qwerty, for the 2005 Yuletide obscure fandoms exchange.

**1.**

"'Iwase-san, don't you talk about anything but your dog?' _That's_ what she said to me before she left. What's that supposed to mean? I talk about lots of things." Taketo Iwase was irritated, and the more he talked about his afternoon, the worse he felt. "But if it's about my family, that's my big brother and that's you. If it's about my friends, you were my classmate in high school so that's you, too. If it's college -- well, what's wrong with using you for my examples? She's taking the same courses, we're both studying to be veterinarians, so why wouldn't she be interested in hearing about you?"

"My question would be, why're you asking me what women want?" Salsa, the black and tan German shepherd mix in question, grumbled. "I'm a dog."

"Yeah, but you can smell what people are feeling. You pick up on a lot of things I don't," Taketo pointed out. "So that was what she said to me after I told her I'd have to leave early to take you for your walk."

Salsa rolled his eyes. "Taketo, this does not require my genius-level skills. You were on a date, right?" he said. "I think you're supposed to want more time with the _girl_. And don't skimp on my tail this time -- my fur's getting a mat in it down there."

"Hai hai." Taketo obediently grasped Salsa's tail and applied his brush to the underside. "I guess you're right. Hadn't thought about it that way," he said. "But who wants to go out with someone who doesn't like his dog? Roll over and let me do your stomach now."

"No question that _I'm_ beyond compare, but _you_ are pathetic. This makes the fourth time you've struck out since this school year started." Salsa flopped onto his back, hooting, "Ha, what a loser!"

"Thanks for the words of encouragement, coach," Taketo said, glaring at him as he pulled tufts of fur from the brush.

"Again I point out, you're the one trying to get dating advice from a dog," Salsa said comfortably, adding, "C'mon, hurry it up, will you?"

Taketo frowned, and set back to work. Salsa used to consider his brushings a high point of the evening, but these days he'd been rushing Taketo to finish quickly. In fact, in the face of the mounting evidence, Taketo could only conclude that Salsa had been actively avoiding him of late. Taketo had given over his dog-walking job for Izumi-san's pack to a high-school student, he'd severely cut back his hours at the Luna Rental Pet Shop, and he did all of his studying at home now -- but even as Taketo scrambled to make more time in his schedule to be with Salsa, Salsa seemed to be spending more time away with his own detective business. He didn't know what to make of it.

Salsa's hind leg began to twitch rapidly. "Damn, that tickles," he muttered.

"Sorry," Taketo said, "let me just brush down here then." He began smoothly stroking farther down Salsa's belly. "Hey, Salsa, does that feel better?" he said. "You like it right here, don't you?"

"Mmm, yeah, Taketo," Salsa said, wriggling. "More like that. Use the softer brush though."

"On it," Taketo said, switching brushes. So he'd come up with his top-secret motivational plan: he'd spoil Salsa more to get him to stay home more. He didn't think Salsa would be averse to the idea, even if he figured it out -- after all, no one thought Salsa was more deserving than Salsa did. "So, Salsa," he began, adding a little more pressure to his strokes.

"Hmm?" Salsa squirmed and moaned blissfully, "Ahhh, Taketo, sooo good."

"You'd like something else good too, wouldn't you?" Taketo continued, leaning over. He breathed in Salsa's ear: "How about a nice, meaty soup bone when we're done?"

Abruptly the dog vanished. Lying in his place was a tall, long-haired young man with pointed ears and a torso of tanned, bare skin -- but everything below was black fur, complete with a tail and huge paws. As a wild-half dog, Salsa was a shape-shifter by nature, one form pure dog, the other human enough to pass with concealing clothing. But in Salsa's case, overstimulating thoughts about brushing and food and walks in the park could trigger his shift. And right now, Salsa was blinking up at him, stunned. "What the hell was that for?" he demanded.

"Whoa," Taketo said. He hurriedly pulled the brush from between Salsa's legs. "Sorry, I didn't think that just mentioning it would --"

Salsa sat up abruptly, and Taketo scooted back against his bed to make room. "That's the trouble," Salsa fumed. "Lately, you don't _think_."

"Hunh?" Taketo said, exasperated. "What's that mean?" He brandished the brush. "So why does it matter? I can still brush your fur like this. Just lie down, and I'll --"

Salsa smacked the brush out of his hand.

Taketo sat back, wide-eyed and nursing his stinging hand. "Salsa?" he said.

Salsa looked confused as well. "Reflex or something. I didn't mean to do that," he said quickly. He raked his claw-like nails through his hair. "I guess I'm just feeling a lot of stress over the investigation right now. Taketo, I really didn't mean to take it out on you. I'm sorry."

"Oh," Taketo said, lamely, "those murders, you mean." Salsa never apologized for anything unless he meant it; Taketo felt relieved. If it was just work, then he could understand at least some of Salsa's tense behavior, why he'd been shutting him so firmly out of his feelings for months now.

"Yeah. Them," Salsa said. "And other stuff."

"Other stuff?" Taketo prompted.

"Other stuff," Salsa repeated, tone precluding discussion. "Whatever. I'll just get dressed," he said, flowing smoothly to his feet and walking over to the dresser. "You did laundry yesterday, right?"

"Yeah," Taketo said, with a nagging sensation of missing something important. "You know I don't care. Why bother to get dressed if you don't want to?" Salsa's only response to that was to slide open the top drawer and begin shuffling through the contents. "I put your stuff on the right side, like always."

"Great." Salsa pulled out one of his tight, black tee-shirts that left his midriff bare, a pair of jeans, and one of his bandanas; then he stood there, weighing them in his hand. "You said something about a soup bone?"

"Um, yeah," Taketo said, tearing away his gaze, hauling himself to his feet. "I bought it at the butcher's after my last class. Actually, Salsa, since I'm done now until classes begin again, we could --"

Salsa stretched out an arm, finger pointed at the door: "Fetch, boy!"

Rude. Definitely rude, Taketo thought, stomping out to the kitchen. He'd always enjoyed watching Salsa squeeze himself into those weird clothes he favored, but Salsa was being bitten by some sort of privacy bug these days. _My Dog. Is. A. Selfish. Arrogant. Jerk!_ he felt, strongly as he could manage.

The only reply was a casual whiff of amusement: _Just figuring that out? How'd you get into college?_

_Shut up._

When the clothed version of Salsa finally sauntered out of Taketo's room, he was hefting the file of newspaper clippings and notes that he kept in Taketo's desk drawer. "So you want to know what I'm doing lately?" he said. "Here you go. Two and a half months, six murders, zero progress." He slapped the folder down on the table and slid it across to Taketo.

"I read most of these the first time around in the paper, y'know," Taketo said. He handed over the promised soup bone, adding, "I'll never figure out what you see in these things."

"Ohhh yeah," Salsa said, delighted. "'Cause you're not a dog." He snatched it and turned the bone over admiringly in his hands, then greedily set to gnawing on the meatiest portion. "'Cause you're just a stingy human," he mumbled, mouth full. "If you'd buy some extras, I could bury them in the park for later."

_Then you'd come home even less often, wouldn't you?_ Taketo thought, dejected -- rapidly tagging on _with the rice, chicken, milk, and cucumbers._ Mulling over the week's grocery list had become Taketo's standard ploy to keep Salsa's oversensitive nose diverted from whatever he had really been feeling.

"Even I don't think about food as much as you do," Salsa said. "If you're that hungry, eat more."

"I thought you were going to tell me about what you're working on," Taketo said, pointedly changing the subject.

"Mmph." Salsa said, bone in mouth, as he flicked open the folder with a nail. He pulled the bone out to state, "Not a lot more to go on except what you see there. No witnesses, no real patterns. He didn't kill them in the same way -- strangulation, gunshot, stabbing, beating. Most were different. Some were men, some women."

"So why do you even think they're connected?" Taketo asked. "I mean, aside from the way that the media has been --"

"Smell," Salsa cut him off. "Overlapping smells."

"You mean you've smelled the same person at all the scenes?" Taketo said. "Wouldn't that be the killer?"

"No," Salsa said impatiently, "that's not what I mean. And that's the point -- I _haven't_ smelled the same person at all of them, except the same police detectives. The exact same investigators have been showing up at those scenes -- one of them is your brother. But there haven't been any other consistent scents. But some of the scenes have had a scent that overlapped from the previous one."

"Hunh?" Taketo said. "But . . . doesn't that mean that one person didn't do all of them?"

"Maybe. By the time I can get close enough to where they've found a body, usually the traces have been muddled with a lot of other people's scents." He dropped his bone on the table and sat back, crossing his arms. "But the same investigators at each one tells me the police seem to think they're all connected, too." He scowled. "So I can visit the locations after they've left, but they've already picked them clean. I'd like to get a look at what they got. If you could get me into the station again --"

"No way!" Taketo said. "You know the last time, we nearly got caught." His heart thudded leadenly, just remembering it. "Aniki really would lose it if he ever found out about that."

"All right, fine," Salsa conceded. "You could ask your brother some of my questions."

"Sure. But first tell me how I'm supposed to explain why I'm asking. Tell him, 'That private eye guy, Wild Half, asked me to ask you'? He's a _such_ big fan of yours," Taketo pointed out, sighing. "Do you really think he'd tell me any confidential information?"

"Yeah, yeah," Salsa mused, dangling his bone and staring at it meditatively. "That's the trouble with those," he indicated the clippings, "naturally the police are withholding information from the media, and I'd give a few fangs to find out what the hell it is." Salsa tapped his nose: "I'm familiar enough with your brother to read him pretty well, but I can never get anything from him when I'm around except 'hate dogs hate dogs hate dogs'."

Taketo laughed in spite of himself. His brother did hate dogs -- he loathed them with the burning passion of a thousand wiener roasts, and Salsa was no exception to that. Taketo still wasn't certain how they'd managed to persuade his brother to let Salsa stay.

"'Cause all he's ever wanted is for you to be happy," Salsa murmured, preoccupied with his reading but unconsciously responding to the scent of Taketo's thought.

_Aniki needs to get a life_, Taketo thought, reddening. After their parents had died in an accident, his brother Toshifumi had raised him alone from the time he'd been a high school student and Taketo a toddler. Taketo thought his brother's ideas of child-rearing had sometimes been too strict, but he couldn't deny that his brother's pushing had led to him graduating at the top of his class and passing his entrance exams. But his brother's vow to stay single and devote all his attention to Taketo until he finished school was creating an uncomfortable situation, now that they were both older. Taketo sighed. "So he puts up with a lot, but not even he would understand why I wanted to wallow in the grisly details, you know."

"True," Salsa said, glancing at him. "You're not that kind of person." While Taketo considered what kind of person that made Salsa, he continued, "So what you're going to do instead is tape that broadcast tomorrow afternoon." He waved a hand at the TV. "I still can't figure out how to work those damn machines. There's a special airing locally that's a complete compilation of all the reporting to date. I want a copy."

"That I can do," Taketo said, relieved. "I mean, you know I'd do anything that's not completely insane for you, Salsa. Even if you're nuts, you're my dog."

Salsa didn't rise to the bait; instead, he said moodily, "Some things are crazy, yeah." Taketo studied him, sensing a subtle veering off topic, but Salsa had already reaffixed his attention firmly on his case. "This one's the really odd one."

"Which one?"

"That third murder, just outside of town to the south," Salsa said. "The old woman with all those cats."

"Cats?" Taketo repeated. "I didn't read those. You don't mean the pets were killed, too?"

"Yeah," Salsa said, "says here the police think all her pets were killed first, though it doesn't explain why. This one was a stabbing."

"Killed all her cats, then killed her," Taketo said. It made him feel uneasy. If anything like that were to happen to Salsa, he didn't know how he could handle it. And they'd come so close to that in the past -- lunatics seemed to home in on them for some reason, many of them other wild-halfs.

"Like I said, you really are slow." Salsa was tapping an impatient nail on the table. "I've told you before: it's because you smell too damn good," he complained.

"So I'm what? A bone to fight over now?" Taketo said.

"Something like that," Salsa said, sniffing the air. "Or you usually smell good. Maybe that's the real reason she walked out on you."

"Cut it out," Taketo mumbled, irritated at this reminder of his latest dating disaster. He'd missed the bus, but had run home rather than waiting for the next one because he really hadn't wanted to miss his walk with Salsa. But he saw no reason to hand over that information -- flattery like that might be taking the spoiling plan too far. "Anyway, what I was going to say was that none of those other murder victims had pets," Taketo pointed out.

Salsa stared at him. "How do you know that?"

"You didn't know? Maria-san takes in pets from owners who've died when they don't have anywhere else to go," Taketo told him. "Or the police drop off animals with her during investigations until relatives can collect them. No pets have come in to Luna Rental Pet related to these killings, so I'd assume there haven't been any other pets involved."

"No pets," Salsa said, "so maybe that's not unusual, but --" He abruptly tossed his bone to the floor, then shuffled the clippings back into the folder. "Incoming," he informed him. Salsa dropped to all fours and melted back into his dog form, shaking off his clothes in the process.

Taketo scooped up the lot and had just tossed it into his bedroom along with Salsa's file folder when the apartment's door opened: "'Home," his brother stated flatly, dropping his briefcase and leaning over to untie his shoes. He looked as exhausted as he usually did these days.

"Welcome back, Aniki," Taketo said brightly. "I've got your dinner waiting to warm up, and the bath is -- wha, Salsa?" He broke off, as Salsa bullied his way past his brother and through the still open door. Toshifumi stumbled aside, yelling, "What the hell is it with this damned mongrel of yours every night?"

"Salsa, hey, you're not going to spend the night out in the doghouse again?" Taketo called after him, but naturally there was no answer, not with his brother standing right there. Taketo had a sinking feeling that was precisely why Salsa always chose that moment. _C'mon, Salsa! Why won't you sleep on my bed anymore?_ Taketo thought at top volume, but that won him no response either.

"Good riddance," his brother muttered darkly, yanking at his necktie. "Dogs!"

* * *

**2.**

"Geez," Taketo wheezed, exasperated, "if . . . you'd wake me up . . . in the mornings, I wouldn't be . . . late, would I?"

"Oh sure, blame it all on the dog," Salsa said, galloping easily down the street behind Taketo, who was running full out. "I'm nine years old -- I can walk myself in the mornings, y'know."

But wasn't that true all along? Taketo considered unhappily. After Salsa had ordered that his doghouse be moved back outside, he'd taken to occupying it every night -- as a result, Taketo now had to rely on his bedside clock instead of his 'dog demanding a walk' alarm. Unlike Salsa, the clock could be ignored, so Taketo often woke up later than he intended these days. He'd been an occasional assistant at the Karasuma Animal Clinic during high-school, and now he worked there every morning; although Karasuma never seemed to mind these lapses, Taketo still felt terrible about showing up late.

Salsa was more than pleased to help him shovel on the guilt: "With my amazing deductive powers, I foresee that healthy, wealthy, and wise aren't featured in your future," he said. "So why don't you just ask your brother to wake you up before he leaves for work?"

Taketo paused to hang off the handle of the clinic's door, catching his breath. "He's been leaving . . . too early," he said. Then he flung open the door and rushed inside, Salsa trotting after.

"Ah, Taketo-kun, Salsa-kun," Kaoru Karasuma said, straightening up from petting the cranky-looking long-haired cat sitting in a waiting client's lap. He studied Taketo gravely. "I see. Another of those mornings." Taketo cringed.

_You're a winner today,_ Salsa thought happily. Taketo kicked him.

"Sensei!" Taketo blurted. "Please excuse --!"

"No no no!" Karasuma whipped out his coke-bottle glasses from his tunic pocket, and shoved them on his face. "Don't worry about it," he said, grinning wildly, demeanor completely transformed. "You're just in time to help with Fluffy-chan's booster shots! I'm afraid she has unresolved issues with veterinarians," he added sadly.

"Oo-er," the woman cooed happily, "she dislikes them so."

That turned out to be a grotesque understatement. Later, Salsa briefly assumed his human form to smear some of his healing blood on Taketo's battle wounds, while Karasuma mopped up the excess that Taketo had dripped on his examination table. "And if you could have heard that little bitch's vocabulary," Salsa was complaining scornfully. "Tell me, why is it that the people who have the most unruly, arrogant, freaking _rude_ animals always seem to be so proud of their behavior?"

"Yes, one has wondered" came the dry-as-dust response behind them. Claws clicking on tile, Karasuma's own wild-half dog, Ginsei, trotted into the clinic from Karasuma's quarters, pausing for a quick shake of his long-haired, grey coat. "Kaoru, I've finished with the breakfast dishes," he said to Karasuma. "I'll be hanging out the laundry --"

"Ginsei?" Karasuma froze, staring at him with those silver eyes that had been Ginsei's gift to him as a child. His face flushed a deep crimson -- he tossed aside his towel, and threw himself across the room, wailing, "I've missed you _so much,_ my Ginsei!" He buried his face in Ginsei's fur, sniffling loudly.

Ginsei's usual sober expression became soft. "Kaoru," he murmured.

"It's been _what?_ All of fifteen minutes?" Salsa muttered sourly, as Taketo shushed him. The phone at the front counter rang just then, and Taketo slid through the doorway quickly to answer it.

"Hello, thank you for calling the Karasuma Animal Clinic, may I --?"

"-- turn on your damn cell phone?! Yeah, indeed you may!" Taketo winced and held the receiver away from his ringing ear to wait out the storm. His brother Toshifumi was now elaborating in far greater detail on his personal opinion of those who turned off their cell phones when others, who might happen to be police detectives with no time to waste on such shenanigans -- unlike, say, idle college students aiming to become useless veterinarians who had been ignoring their own flesh and blood in favor of wasting their time with the professionally useless, tending those repulsive canines -- wished to speak with them.

Salsa, who had been bowled off his haunches by the brotherly blast as well, righted himself with a clink of collar tags. "Yeesh, what's the brother's problem today?"

"Dunno yet," Taketo said in a low voice, after placing a careful hand over the mouthpiece. "He hasn't gotten to that part." He held the receiver a little closer and listened cautiously for a few seconds to the ongoing thunder. "Um, okay. Now he's moved on to his disappointment with the youth of today, the so-called future of Japan. Less than a minute to go." Taketo had his brother's stress patterns down to a science.

Karasuma looked up from Ginsei's neck to squint at him, confused. "But Iwase-kun still counts as the youth of Japan, doesn't he?" he asked. Taketo sighed. Adrift on his Ginsei cloud, Karasuma had again managed to momentarily misplace his basic life information -- he was the same age as Taketo's brother, and not only were the two former high school classmates, they had been weekly drinking buddies for several years now.

Ginsei merely waved his tail in agreement. "So true, Kaoru," he said fondly. "I believe you'll never stop being young at heart."

"Ginsei . . . " Karasuma's eyes widened with unshed tears. "Ginsei is just _too adorable!_" he cried, hugging him with renewed vigor.

"Oi, Taketo. D'you stock enough insulin here to meet the demand?" Salsa grumbled. Glancing at him, Taketo saw that Salsa's tongue was hanging out in a 'bleh' that was a mirror of his own. Ginsei was not only Karasuma's dog, he was his biggest fan. That the feeling was glaringly, terrifyingly reciprocated was borne out by the pictures of Ginsei that adorned every free centimeter of Karasuma's wall space. The atmosphere of mutual adoration in the clinic could become too cloying to breathe.

Taketo didn't actually mind, though: It made him feel all the more lucky to have his abrasive, surly, greedy Salsa. Ginsei had age, wisdom, and good manners on his side, but his Salsa was ultra clever and strong and loyal and brave and optimistic . . . and ultra disgusted, from the look of it. Taketo stared at the ceiling, composing far less complimentary thoughts for Salsa's enjoyment, when his internal timer pinged. He turned his attention back to the telephone. "Yes, Aniki, I'm very sorry," he recited. "I'll remember to turn on my phone in the morning."

"Be sure that you do," his brother huffed. "Now I need you to get over here. I'm at the hospital."

"The hospital?" Taketo shouted. "Why didn't you say so? Are you hurt?" Somewhere in the next room, Taketo heard a crashing thud and "Whoa, hamsters!" Now everyone else in the vicinity was listening, too.

"No," his brother said curtly. "The beat patrols picked up a gang of teenage thugs, and all of them needed a trip to the emergency room before they could be hauled to the station. One of these idiots refuses to talk -- all he'd give them was his name." His brother paused, then added, with dour emphasis: "Taketo Iwase."

"_My_ name?" Taketo yelled.

"What's going on?" Salsa demanded. Taketo shushed him as his brother continued.

"Yeah, well, imagine how I felt hearing that," his brother said. "I dropped everything I was working on to get over here, only to find that it wasn't you after all. So now I want you to get your butt over here to identify this asshole, since he's refusing to do it himself."

"Couldn't you just hand him the phone?" Taketo said faintly. "I could talk to this guy."

Salsa sighed, having scented the tenor of the conversation through Taketo. "He's given false information to the police. They'll want you to show up in person to make a statement."

Taketo sagged, listening as his brother on the other end told him the same thing. _But why me?_ he wondered.

_Ask what he looks like,_ Salsa suggested.

"Can you at least tell me what he looks like?" Taketo asked.

"Like a punk," his brother said unhelpfully. "They all look alike."

Salsa, who'd caught that thought without an interpreter, spread his paws in resignation. _Your brother, what can you do?_

Taketo gave up as well. "Aniki, hold on a little longer." He glanced through the door at Karasuma, who now was crawling around the floor with Ginsei, herding unwilling hamsters -- he'd stood up abruptly when Taketo had yelled about the hospital, and smacked his head on the shelf holding the open case. "Um, I've got a few things to do here at the clinic --"

"Let that idiot clean up his own mess," his brother snapped.

Taketo declined to confirm his accuracy; his brother didn't have psychic powers -- he'd known Taketo's notoriously klutzy boss for years. Taketo instead opted for, "But I was _also_ supposed to go to the Luna Rental Pet Shop after this to help with Maria-san's supply inventory. I should call over there and explain."

Muffled chuckles broke out from the vicinity of the rodent roundup. Toshifumi's years of agonized, unrequited infatuation with dog-loving Maria Sugitani, the owner of Luna Rental Pet, had provided ongoing entertainment for everyone.

"Forget that," his brother said woodenly. "If you two start chatting about your mutts again, you'll miss the next bus."

"I guess you're probably right," Taketo agreed, ignoring the expectant grins closing in around him. "So while you're waiting for me to get there, could you call Maria-san and let her know I'll come in tomorrow?"

Taketo listened to the resounding silence from the other end of the line. Finally, his brother cleared his throat, but he still sounded hoarse: "Fine. You just get over here now. I'll . . . make the call."

"Thanks! I'm on the way," Taketo said cheerfully, hanging up. The other three applauded.

"Thing of beauty," Salsa admitted grudgingly.

"I do my best for the cause," Taketo said, exchanging high-fives. As he stripped off his white staff tunic, Taketo tried to explain the situation to the perplexed group.

"Wonder who it is," Salsa mused.

"No idea," Taketo said. "You're coming too, aren't you?"

"You forget," Salsa said, "it's my client day."

Taketo glanced at the clock. It had slipped his mind in the day's rush. There was no way that even someone as fast as Salsa could be in two places at once. One of the worst kept secrets in town was that, at 3:00 in the afternoon, on a specific day, in a specific park, near a specific bench, the famous -- and very eccentric -- private detective Wild Half would listen to requests from prospective clients from an unseen vantage point in the park's shrubbery.

Salsa's accurate tips to the police force, signed only "Wild Half," had led to a number of high-profile arrests, so his reputation as a detective had been earned -- much to Taketo's brother's annoyance. No one but Taketo was aware that Wild Half had been Salsa all along. Salsa's ability to smell feelings and intentions gave him access to information the police could never obtain by any other means; and his speed, strength, and ability to channel his _seimei-ryoku,_ his own life force amplified by Taketo's feelings, into his surroundings gave Salsa the edge in any physical fight.

To Taketo's surprise, Salsa walked him to the bus stop anyway. He waited patiently as Salsa oppressed a young terrier who'd been running alongside them, vying for Taketo's attention. "You're being kind of mean, aren't you?" Taketo observed, after Salsa had finally thumped the other dog over the head and sent it running away howling. "He was just a little guy."

"Have to let everyone know who's in charge here," he grumbled. "Would you stop encouraging them already?"

"I wasn't encouraging anyone," Taketo pointed out. "And you're going to be late, aren't you?"

"They'll keep," Salsa said with a snort. "The serious ones will stick around, the curiosity seekers will get bored and leave. I'm considering a change in my hours -- but not today. Right now I'll take any leads I can get."

"The park must be getting crowded with all those loiterers trying not to notice each other," Taketo said.

"You have no idea," Salsa grumbled, lifting his hind leg to send a stream of urine onto the side of the bus shelter.

Which was nothing but the truth, Taketo thought quietly, masking it by scanning the posted bus schedule. Salsa hadn't asked him along to the park since last year. "Salsa," he started to say, but Salsa interrupted him.

"You've been doing that a lot lately," he said. "What's the problem?"

"Huh?" Taketo started guiltily. "I was just checking the schedule --"

"Your chest," Salsa said. "You keep rubbing it. Why?"

Taketo looked down, surprised. Salsa was right -- he had been rubbing his chest, right over his full-moon mark. The opalescent, round mark on Taketo's chest was only the surface representation of something even deeper -- a moonlight stone, the physical manifestation of Salsa's bond with his master. Inside Taketo's body, a crystal sphere had formed from his feelings for Salsa. And, from the strength of Taketo's feelings for him, held in that stone, Salsa derived most of his powers as a wild-half. "I didn't even notice," he admitted.

"Hmph. There's your bus," Salsa said, glancing up the street. "I gotta go."

Taketo felt a trace of concern emanating from Salsa. Even if he thought it was misplaced, Taketo was touched, considering Salsa's standoffish attitude lately. Salsa must have picked some of that up in return; as he turned away, he said flatly, "Taketo, how many times do I have to say it? I protect only you. I fight only for you. You're my only master. Nothing will ever change that."

With that, Salsa trotted down the nearby alley and out of sight. Taketo stared after him, perplexed, as the bus squealed to a stop at the curb.

* * *

**3.**

_Guess my life could be considered easy,_ Taketo thought, using his momentum to dive into the crowd in the hospital corridor. _I never need to ask directions -- just head for the brawl._

In fact, he'd been in the process of asking directions at the desk when the shouting had started -- and the growling. As that growl echoed down the corridor, Taketo had remembered: This was the hospital affiliated with their university where Yoshiyasu Tanaka, another wild-half dog, was attending the medical section. Taketo had broken into a run, while a young woman in a white lab-coat was bowling over uniformed police, staff, and students alike from the other direction, shrieking, "Tanaka-kun! I'm coming! Hang in there!"

Taketo reached the doorway of the room at the same time as the woman, and both their heads collided with a thunk. Taketo sat down hard in the doorway. The woman sitting next to him promptly began to clout him over the head with her clipboard, her shout changing to "Men! I hate nasty, stupid men! And Iwase!"

"Yow, ow ow!" Taketo threw up his arms to guard. "What did _I_ do?"

"Shut, the hell, up! All of you!" came a roar from within the room. Taketo recognized the sound of his brother Toshifumi in full fury.

With that, Tanaka's growl broke off abruptly, and the clipboard halted in mid-swing. In the silence that fell over the crowd, Taketo chanced a quick look at the young woman beside him -- and blanched. He'd only spoken with Mayuki Yamanaka, scourge of all creatures male, from a relatively safe distance in the past; now he was too close for safety. Peering around his arm, he could see his older brother shaking a flushed, panting student by the collar of his oversize white lab-coat. That wild head of hair was unmistakably Tanaka's, but the snarling lips were anything but.

"Hey, Tanaka-kun," Taketo called out. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Wha? Iwase-kun?" Tanaka said, blinking vaguely at some space over their heads. "Was that Yamanaka-san?"

_Oh, great,_ Taketo thought. _He's not wearing his contacts today._

"Yeah! _This_ is more like it -- _real_ exciting." At this cheerful observation from inside the room, Taketo's stomach lurched. He leaned in farther so that he could see the occupant of the hospital bed.

"Hey, how's it going?" the werewolf said, flashing Taketo a peace sign with the hand cuffed to the bed-rail. "Wolf's pretty glad he came!"

* * *

**4.**

"No way," Taketo said, sagging. Wolf, here, now? _No way._

"Everyone out," Taketo's brother ordered. "Yeah, you too!" he snapped, pointing at the doctor who was plastered against the wall.

"But this boy is clearly ill," the doctor protested, pointing at Wolf. "This is our hospital, not a police lockup --"

"The lockup is where he's headed, once I figure out who he is!" his brother cut him off, shoving the doctor out the door. "You guys can all poke at him later." Then he snagged Tanaka by the collar again, who'd been taking the opportunity to slink out the door as well. "Not you. You're staying right here. And _you,_" he snapped at Taketo, "get in here now."

Taketo crawled obediently over the threshold, and Yamanaka immediately began to yell, "You patriarchal pig! Male oppressor! Tanaka-kuuuun!"

"You -- be quiet!" Toshifumi said. He rolled her backward with his toe, and slammed the door in the crowd's faces, shouting, "I'll be throwing him out too, in a minute!" He slumped against the door, sorting out his handkerchief and glaring at everyone left in the room. "Now," he said. "Who's first?"

"Wolf," Taketo said, picking himself up off the floor, "what on earth are you doing here?"

"Wolf was taking a nap until the fun started," he replied easily. "Comfy bed."

"That's not what I meant --"

"I'll ask the questions," Toshifumi interrupted. "Or have you forgotten that this is a suspect in police custody, and _you_ are assisting in my inquiries?"

"Aniki," Taketo said hurriedly, "this is all a mistake." Or at least he hoped it was a mistake. Somehow Taketo had to head off this looming disaster. His brother Toshifumi had no idea that wild-half creatures existed, much less that he'd been living in the same apartment with one for years. His brother couldn't be allowed to find out -- not in such close quarters with two of them, both of them dogs.

Tanaka, who'd clearly smelled that thought and was opening his mouth to protest the "dog" part as usual, earned another shake of his coat collar from Taketo's brother. "I'm looking forward to hearing all about this mistake," his brother said grimly. "But before that harpy in the hall decides to storm the ramparts, let's start with _you._" Tanaka went pale.

"Tanaka-kun is a friend of mine," Taketo said, "he's going to the medical school." To Tanaka, he said, with careful emphasis, "You remember my older brother, right? The police detective? The one was _really hates dogs?_"

"Who, who's a dog?" Tanaka said, even as his eyes were going wide with horrified recollection. "I'm absolutely, one hundred percent human!" He squirmed under Toshifumi's grip, and Taketo could see one of Tanaka's furry drooping ears was starting to slip out from his carefully arranged, sprayed-down hair.

Wolf started to laugh.

"Wolf, you're not helping," Taketo snapped, turning on him. "What did you do to Tanaka-kun?"

"Huh?" Tanaka said, peering near-sightedly at the bed and sniffing. "Did you say it's that Wolf guy?"

"Wolf didn't do a thing," he said smugly. "Puppy came into the room and challenged me."

Taketo could guess part what had to have happened. Tanaka would have scented something very wrong about Wolf the moment he stepped into the room in that doctor's wake -- and Tanaka wasn't wearing his contacts or his glasses today. Tanaka, who refused to admit that he even had basic dog instincts, had practically no control over them; he would have switched into aggressive territorial mode against this invader of his workplace. So that left Tanaka, snarling, hackles raised, circling -- with no real idea why he was even doing it -- while everyone in the vicinity panicked.

"He's lying," Tanaka blurted, "that, that _thing_ was --"

"Thing?" Wolf repeated, now eyeing him narrowly. Then he settled back with a wave, "Ha, Wolf gets it now. Puppy-envy of the real thing, is it?"

Taketo flinched: that shot of Wolf's was probably right on target. As a true werewolf, Wolf's human form really was genuinely human, not the half-human admixture of a wild-half dog like Tanaka. He glanced over and saw that Tanaka was staring straight at him, looking wounded. He'd forgotten again that Tanaka could smell his feelings just like Salsa. "Er," Taketo said guiltily, "Tanaka-kun, I --"

"Wha, what are you implying?" Tanaka wailed. "I'm human! Even Yamanaka-san says so!"

"What's all this about dogs?" Toshifumi said, glancing between them, suspicious.

"It's just a, a metaphor," Taketo said desperately, "for, for, uh," as he fumbled for an answer, everyone jumped at sound of an angry thump on the door, "for men! It's just a metaphor for guy territorial behavioral . . . stuff. You know how guys are, right?"

"Suddenly I'm wondering if I do," his brother said. Then he sighed. "So you know both of them?"

Taketo nodded.

"Fine. This one seems harmless enough," he brother said, striding to the door with Tanaka in tow. "Let's deal with the lesser problem." He opened the door abruptly and shoved Tanaka into the hovering Yamanaka and the doctor, pronouncing, "Here, all yours! Now go away."

Taketo called, "Tanaka-kun, see you later!" just as his brother was slamming the door in their faces again. "Next," his brother said dourly.

Taketo now turned his full attention to Wolf, and realized with a pang of guilt that he really didn't look well. Even with the usual smug expression, Wolf's face was covered with a light sheen of sweat.

"Are you feeling all right?" he said.

"Eh," Wolf sniffed. "Wolf's a little tired today."

Taketo considered that. If Wolf really was sick, a hospital was the last place he should be. They needed a vet. He had to get him out of here and over to the Karasuma Animal Clinic. First, he'd have to get his brother to let him go. Somehow. It was time to become a bedside lawyer.

"What kind of a name is 'Wolf'?" his brother said, pulling his notebook from his jacket pocket. "Is that his family name?"

Taketo quickly went on the offensive: "But, Aniki, you already know him," he said lowly. "Isn't it kind of impolite to have forgotten?"

"Hunh?" Toshifumi looked confused.

"He was our guest. In our apartment. For three weeks. You took us to the movies once. You had dinner with him nearly every night," Taketo said, piling it on. "He's my," Taketo stifled a wince at the word, "_friend_ from Hokkaido. Don't you remember?"

"Hokkaido?" his brother repeated. Reminding his brother of this was risky -- he'd been furious when Taketo had taken that impromptu road-trip to Hokkaido with Salsa. On that trip, they'd encountered Wolf -- or rather, Taketo had been abducted by him for his own obscure purposes. After Taketo's brother had tracked them all down, Wolf had invited himself home with them.

"Oh, that's right," his brother said, frowning darkly. "For reasons I'm still not clear on, you grabbed some brat's dog and carted it up there." Taketo gulped.

"Wolf hates dogs," Wolf chimed in.

"Hates . . . dogs?" Taketo's brother repeated, now staring at Wolf. To Taketo's dismay, the air around them seemed to shimmer with a cloud of fellow feeling. His brother reached out and grasped Wolf's hand. "You! You're that kid from Hokkaido," he announced.

"That's right, that's right!" Wolf said cheerfully.

Taketo groaned inwardly. Somehow it figured that his brother would only remember Wolf for being the other dog-hater. The irony of seeing his oblivious brother bonding with a _wolf_ over a mutual loathing of the domestic dog was galling. Taketo shook his head and forced himself back on track.

"Aniki," he said, pressing the acquaintance for all it was worth, "you know Wolf, so you know that he couldn't have been involved with, with whatever it was -- he's not even from around here!"

"'Whatever it was'," his brother clarified stiffly, "was a gang fight. Six guys who'd walked out from that neighborhood's high school are filling up the other rooms in this hallway. The police in the area picked up the lot of them, and they were in pretty bad shape."

"A gang fight?" Taketo said to Wolf, incredulous.

Wolf shrugged. "Someone had a fight," he said dismissively. "Not Wolf."

_Meaning what?_ Taketo thought; he had sinking feeling that all it meant was "no contest." Wolf might look sick, but he certainly didn't look injured. Then again, Wolf could naturally heal his own injuries in his half-human form like Salsa did; Taketo's brother wouldn't know that.

"So he just said he wasn't in on it," Taketo said, deliberately misinterpreting for his brother's sake. "Why did they pick him up?" Although How did they pick him up? would have been a more reasonable question. There was simply no way that Wolf could be captured by any normal means, which was another glaring indication that the whole situation was abnormal.

"He was in the area," Toshifumi said defensively. "They found him lying passed out in an alley two blocks away."

"Lying in an alley?" Taketo said, looking at Wolf questioningly.

"Dunno," he said sheepishly. "Wolf's feeling a little weird."

"Let me get this straight," Taketo said slowly. "You said the other _six_ guys were pretty knocked up, but there's not a mark on Wolf. They just assumed he was involved in that fight because he was _in the area?_"

"And he looks suspicious," his brother said defensively.

Wolf, who'd been following all this with rapt attention, nodded enthusiastically.

Taketo couldn't argue with that. Wolf, with his mop of hair and floor-length pony-tail, was dressed entirely in black: black shirt, black leather pants, black boots, and, he noticed, a full-length black leather coat had been tossed over the chair in the corner. That purple and white bandana wrapped around his left forearm, cuffed to the bed-rail, was the only break in the black. Taketo understood why a now-conscious Wolf hadn't simply broken the handcuff and left on his own steam -- he might have torn the bandana that had been wrapped around that arm by Takahashi, many years ago.

"And," his brother added, "those other guys IDed him downstairs when they brought him in."

"Wait a minute," Taketo said. "All of your eyewitnesses are the guys who'd been arrested? They blamed some complete stranger for everything? How often does _that_ happen?"

His brother had the grace to look mildly ashamed. "At any rate, until we get this cleared up --"

"Well, I don't see any reason to hold him here at all," Taketo argued. "He was in the area, but so were a lot of other people, and no one arrested _them._ He doesn't have any injuries, but all those other guys _do,_ you said -- how could that even be _possible?_ One guy against six? How would he manage that? They put all the blame on him, but wouldn't they have tried that on any unusual stranger who was brought in at the same time? And if he wasn't conscious, he couldn't say anything about it!" Taketo finished triumphantly with a shout of "It really _is_ police oppression!"

"Eh?" Toshifumi said, reeling. "What are you -- ?"

_I'm sorry, Aniki,_ Taketo thought, then loud enough that everyone on the other side of the door could hear it, he declared, "You're arresting innocent people just because they look suspiciously cool and fashionable!"

"Yeah? Wolf's cool and fashionable?" he said, fascinated.

"Shut up," Taketo muttered. Then he shouted, "It's like we're becoming a fascist state! Police brutality!"

"I see now that sending you to college was a mistake," his brother said.

"Bet that female in the hall agrees," Wolf said helpfully, watching the door. Taketo knew that Wolf's sense of smell was far more refined than Salsa's, so he had no doubt that Wolf had an inside track on how feelings were running out in the hall at the moment.

"Yes!" Taketo seized the suggestion, "Let's ask Yamanaka-san _her_ opinion about policemen!"

"No!" his brother said, "let's _not._" Then he sighed, and rubbed the back of his head. "Enough already. He would have been released anyway for lack of evidence. And, unlike you it seems, I do have more important work I should be doing right now."

"I know," Taketo admitted, watching his brother fish the key to the handcuffs from his pocket. "Aniki, we'll get out of your hair as soon as we can."

"Besides," his brother added acidly, "if he's going to be staying at our apartment again, I'd rather he didn't get there by way of a jail cell. You should get him looked at by Doctor Ethics out there before you go."

"Oh, uh," Taketo glanced at Wolf who was now flexing his freed wrist and looking a little disappointed. "I think he might be staying with Karasuma-sensei this time."

"That guy with the glasses?" Wolf said, straightening immediately. "Wolf's going to Disneyland again?" His eyes began to glaze over in excitement.

Great, Taketo thought with genuine satisfaction. If Wolf was anything at all like Salsa, getting him to cooperate with vet treatment could have been next to impossible. "Maybe we could," Taketo said, by way of enticement; "We'll have to go there and ask him, won't we?"

"Let's go, let's go," Wolf panted, struggling off the bed.

"Aniki, we're going to --"

"Get out of here," his brother said, tossing Wolf's coat at him, and walking to the door. To Taketo, he said, "You'll have to find your own way back, though. I'm going to be at the station for the rest of the night." At his brother's tired expression, Taketo blamed himself for having taken advantage of him, even though he hadn't had a choice. "See you later -- all of you, out of the way!" he barked, swinging open the door.

Then Taketo stiffened. _Just now,_ he thought, disconcerted, _that felt like --?_ Slapping a hand to the back of his neck, Taketo whirled around. "Wolf, what are you --?"

"Hmm? What?" Wolf was pulling on his coat, not looking in the least like someone who might have been nosing the nape of anyone else's neck a moment before. He murmured, "Yeah, just like Wolf remembered -- real nice," and he grabbed Taketo's arm: "Like the loud cop said, let's get out here."

Taketo let Wolf tow him bodily out of the room, down the hallway right through the protesting throng that had gathered there, and out of the building, where Wolf's burst of energy finally gave out. He doubled over and leaned against the wall.

"Ungh. But Wolf doesn't feel so good right now," he muttered.

"Hang on a little longer. We'll have to get a ride to Karasuma-sensei's place," Taketo said, worried.

"Steal a car?" Wolf suggested brightly.

"No!" Taketo said. Even if Wolf really hadn't been in the gang fight, his past escapades ought to have resulted in an arrest record the size of a small library. "We can take a taxi," Taketo told him, scanning the street. "I think I've got enough on me."

"Wolf loves riding in cars." Wolf sighed happily. "Hey, Wolf has money." He dug around inside his coat and produced a collection of wallets and a cell phone with an incongruous kitten mascot hanging from the strap.

"Wolf," Taketo said, his own stomach bottoming out, "where did you get those?"

"Off those weak guys," he said, dismissive, "after Wolf kicked their asses for 'em."

"Oh my god," Taketo groaned, glancing around furtively to be sure no one else had spotted this. "I don't want to hear this, I do not want to know. Just . . . just put those away _right now._"

Wolf shrugged, and all of it disappeared back into the depths of his coat. How on earth the police had missed those in their usual search was a mystery Taketo never wanted solved. _Please forgive me, Aniki,_ he thought sadly.

* * *

**5.**

"A Japanese wolf?" Karasuma said wonderingly, stroking Wolf's fur. "But they've been extinct since the turn of the century, haven't they? I can't believe this is real."

"Alas," Ginsei murmured, "all too real."

"Wolf is an Ezo wolf," he corrected Karasuma proudly. Ginsei he merely ignored. Something about the tilt of Wolf's muzzle made Taketo think he wasn't displeased with the all the admiration Karasuma was lavishing on him. Taketo suspected he wasn't used to it; within minutes of meeting Wolf, nearly everyone else had good reasons to root for extinction.

"Sensei, he's like Ginsei and Salsa," Taketo explained quickly. "Um, you know. A wild-half. And, actually, you've even met him before, he was --"

"Don't compare Wolf to _dogs,_" Wolf interrupted, disgusted. "Wolf is a real werewolf." Now Ginsei looked even more peeved.

When Taketo had first hustled Wolf into the taxi and given the directions, Wolf had demanded to know what a "juui-shi" was. Before the driver could respond, Taketo had assured Wolf, without elaborating, that it was simply Karasuma's job. "He works at home, right?" he'd told him. He considered it the purest luck that Wolf had collapsed into his natural form a few minutes after the taxi had pulled away from the clinic, which put off more questions. It was less fortunate that Taketo had had to carry him in -- while he waved his paws weakly and whooped, "Look, Wolf is a bride!"

So Wolf had been in no condition to flee once Taketo had dropped him on Karasuma's examination table. Predictably, Karasuma had taken immediately to this miraculous creature who'd appeared in his city veterinary clinic. Also predictably, Ginsei had been less enthusiastic. Much less. But Taketo trusted Ginsei to at least observe the forms of courtesy. With Wolf, all bets were off -- Taketo hoped he was too sick to take down the building.

"Anyway," Taketo said, "Sensei, you met Wolf before. You remember my, uh, friend from Hokkaido who came to visit while I was in high school?" This was the second time he'd had to refer to Wolf as his friend, and it won him a sly, amused glance from the wild-half in question. Ginsei, on the other hand, had the air of a martyr resigned to a terrible fate. Taketo was thankful that Salsa hadn't returned from the park yet.

Karasuma hooked his glasses down his nose, and stared at Wolf with Ginsei's silver eyes. "I see. Yes, he does have the same colors . . ." He burbled, "This is wonderful! He really is, isn't he?"

"One and the same," Ginsei said dryly. "Kaoru, the sooner you treat him, the sooner he can leave."

"Heh, Wolf feels better, right where he is," Wolf said, lolling his tongue at Ginsei as Karasuma scratched under his chin. To Karasuma, he said, "Hey, what's a 'juui-shi,' anyway?"

"Oh, that's me," Karasuma told him happily. "I'm an animal doctor."

"An animal . . . what?" Wolf went rigid.

"Why yes," Ginsei's expression became beatific, "Kaoru is a veterinarian," he said. "He offers many delightful services. But please don't be concerned -- he won't consider you to be _obligated_ after he treats you."

Karasuma shoved his glasses back up his nose and blinked at Ginsei, confused. "Have I missed something?"

"It's nothing, Kaoru," Ginsei assured him arily, as Wolf began to squirm madly. "But wait -- didn't you mention that Takahashi was studying to be a veterinarian as well, Taketo?"

"What? Takahashi?" Wolf said, looking thoroughly betrayed.

Taketo sighed and rushed over to help hold Wolf down. So maybe he'd been worried about the wrong wild-half -- he hoped Salsa would come soon, if only to distract _Ginsei._

"Wolf, listen," Taketo said throwing his arms around his back legs, "if you'll just bear with this --"

"Wolf doesn't 'bear with' anything!" he snarled, struggling back.

"I understand, but this will make you feel better, and if you feel better, we can all go clubbing," Taketo said, panting. "All of us!"

"Clubbing?" Wolf paused to consider that. "Huh. When? Yeah, Wolf could really use a daiquiri. Or ten."

"Absolutely," Taketo said. He bid a silent, sad farewell to his budget for that month. "But, see, it'll be no fun if you're not feeling well. We could go with some of my _other_ friends who're home on break, and make it like . . . like a group date. That's even _more_ fun."

"Well . . ." Wolf said, but it was clear that his resistance had been broken by the allure of carousing.

"So let's get started, shall we?" Karasuma reluctantly abandoned his grip on Wolf's coat in favor of fishing about in his tray. "First, temperature --"

"What's _that?_" Wolf yelped, staring at Karasuma's hand.

"This?" Karasuma said, surprised. "Don't worry, it's only a rectal thermometer! Then we'll take some blood samples," he held up a needle, "this won't hurt a bit! And then we'll --"

Wolf's howl was deafening.

"Isn't Kaoru wonderful?" Ginsei sighed, as he switched over to his human form to loom over the table.

* * *

**6.**

Naturally, Salsa's first response after he'd tracked down Taketo had been, "Wolf?! You bastard, what the hell are _you_ doing here?" Ginsei and Taketo both had to tackle him to avert the fight.

Later, after Taketo had calmed him down and explained the situation, "Guess I missed some excitement," Salsa said. "You asshole, cut it out!" he snarled at Wolf, prying apart the jaws that had just closed on his arm. Wolf's response to that made Taketo's ears burn. So maybe "calm" was an overstatement.

Still later, as Karasuma puttered with his equipment, Wolf finally deigned to answer the question everyone had been asking him. "So Takahashi went to some England place," Wolf was saying impatiently. "That old geezer paid for it. He's going to be gone three whole months!"

Taketo exchanged a worried glance with Salsa, both wondering how long Makoto Takahashi was really going to be gone; three was simply the highest number Wolf could count. Takahashi, who as a boy had rescued Wolf from an animal trap, was the only creature Wolf classified as both "friend" and "fun," which meant he was the only one who could exert any influence over Wolf's behavior. Not that Takahashi's sway over Wolf had always been an unqualified benefit, Taketo recalled with a shudder.

"This 'old geezer'," Ginsei interjected, "you don't mean the head of the Abe corporate group?"

"Yeah, that guy," Wolf said, derisive. "Now that Takahashi doesn't belong to him anymore, he makes nice. Stupid -- Takahashi is Wolf's. But Tahakashi's people say they're _obligated_ because the geezer raised him." Gratitude had always been a foreign concept for Wolf, Taketo recalled. But then, Takahashi's life as 'Shouhei Abe', the adopted heir of the Abe family, hadn't been very pleasant, which would have been the blackest mark against Abe-san by Wolf's accounting. "Then Takahashi said Wolf couldn't go to that England and have a good time, too. Huh, like Wolf couldn't take a plane if he wanted."

Everyone stiffened, knowing he meant that literally. Taketo's mind obligingly produced a newscast in which the announcer was stating gravely, "The hijacker's demands have included 'takahashi,' mixed drinks with small umbrellas, and karaoke."

"Takahashi said Wolf had to have lots of fun until he comes back," Wolf griped. "But Wolf gets bored in the woods -- so Wolf decided to go back to work." He stretched, satisfied. "Yeah, the business is pretty exciting, but Wolf's gotta reestablish his credentials first."

Taketo guessed that somewhere in that neighborhood would be a harried shop-owner now dreading Wolf's arrival to collect his fee. Wolf's so-called 'jack of all trades' line had taken on anything entertainingly criminal. Taketo's brain dutifully switched to a new channel, where the host was saying brightly, "Today's Mystery Entrepreneur's interests include robbery, intimidation, extortion, and assassination," with Wolf seizing the microphone to add, "Yeah, kicking ass! Blowing shit up! All the fun stuff!"

He noticed that Salsa was studying Wolf narrowly now. Taketo wished again he could hear more of what Salsa was thinking these days; he could almost feel suspicion radiating off him. Suddenly it dawned on Taketo _why,_ and the idea made him feel a little ill as well. "Say, Wolf," Salsa said casually, "how long have you been in town, anyway?"

"Not long," he said, yawning.

Salsa still looked tense. Taketo was glad Karasuma interrupted the conversation at that point.

"First, the good news! I've finished," Karasuma said, waving an arm and bushing off several test tubes in the process. "Whoops!"

As Ginsei rushed over to help Karasuma pick up the floor, Wolf took the opportunity to leap off the table -- or he tried. Taketo had stepped in to take Ginsei's place in the Wolf Restraint Brigade, so he heard Salsa as he leaned over and said lowly, "Listen, you moron. This isn't fun for any of us, but he _said_ he's done prodding at you." In a more grudging tone, he added, "And he's actually a really good vet, and he's got bad enough taste to like _you._ So why don't you just shut up and listen to what he has to say?"

"Huh. Wolf would rather hear whatever it is you aren't saying," Wolf countered.

Salsa hesitated, then said, "It's nothing important. Just forget that I asked."

Wolf harumphed and stuck up his muzzle. But to Taketo's relief, he was no longer putting up a fight, so they gave him a little room.

Adjusting his glasses, Karasuma continued serenely, "Next, the bad news. You've got two problems that are working together to result in a serious case of anemia."

"What's that?" Wolf said. He pushed himself up on his haunches to glare at everyone.

"It's a blood problem," Karasuma told him. "I believe you already had a low-grade form of it, but it was exacerbated by something more recent."

"Like what?" Taketo said, interested. "You said there were two things?"

Karasuma nodded. "Wolf has a blood-borne parasitical infection that's not uncommon with dogs in rural wooded areas, but not something we see a lot in the city." Wolf scowled at the "dogs," but otherwise said nothing.

Taketo knew what Karasuma meant, so he rushed in to change the subject. "Sensei, you mentioned a second --"

"Oh my," Ginsei interrupted, expression concerned. "But wait. What causes it, Kaoru?"

"Well, it's carried by ticks," Karasuma said.

"I see," Ginsei said, smiling gently. Taketo slumped; he could see exactly where this was heading, and he wasn't certain even the promise clubbing was going to be enough.

"Anyway," Salsa said, picking up on Taketo's anxiety, "you said there was something more recent?"

"Right," Karasuma said, "but that's one I'm puzzled about. Wolf has reduced red cells, classic for the hemolytic anemia that results from ingesting onions. But I don't know where he would have --"

"But," Ginsei cut in, "didn't Taketo say that Wolf was picked up by the police over on the west side of town?"

"Uh, yes?" Taketo confirmed, hesitant.

"I see. Kaoru," Ginsei said, "isn't that where Cataloni-san lives?"

"Yes, she has the two little white dogs," Karasuma said. "Yes yes, I've eaten at her restaurant with --"

"Her Italian restaurant, which features garlic and onion special dishes?" Ginsei mused.

Taketo interrupted, "At any rate --"

"With all those trash bins in the alley where some stray _dog_ from the _countryside_ who didn't know any better might gorge himself?" Ginsei continued, his expression saintly.

Salsa leapt to intercept Wolf, even as oblivious Karasuma slapped fist to palm. "Yes, yes," he said, "that could be it!"

"Hmm, yes," Ginsei said gravely, cradling his chin in his palm. Taketo, Salsa, and Wolf all clutched each other and shrank back from his blinding halo of sincerity. "Do correct me if I'm wrong, Kaoru, but won't this require _injections?_ And _pills?_ And a nice, long medicated bath to deal with the vermin?"

Moved beyond words for a moment, Karasuma seized Ginsei's hands in his own. "My, my Ginsei! So intelligent!"

Wolf howled, "He's a sadist!"

After Wolf had finally submitted with ill-grace to a series of injections and an infusion, Ginsei had drifted from the room to "find a lovely floral shampoo."

"Wolf's not staying here," Wolf snapped. "Not. Staying. Wolf's going to Taketo's place. _He_ has a nice smell like Takahashi."

Salsa growled, and Taketo protested quickly, "But Sensei wants to keep you overnight for observation. And, uh, doesn't he . . . uh, smell nice too?"

"Taketo isn't _your_ nice smell," Salsa snarled. "Just stay here, you idiot. You can't even change your form yet."

"We'll be back first thing in the morning," Taketo promised, ignoring Salsa's glare. "Sensei and Ginsei make great do--, uh, wolf food. You'll like it." After Salsa's quiet, sharp reminder to Ginsei that -- in spite of everything else he'd done -- Wolf had once saved Karasuma's life, Taketo thought that Wolf would probably be safe from too much overnight vengeance. Probably. "So how was the park today?" Taketo asked, changing the subject before Wolf or Salsa could launch another volley at the other.

"Same as last week," Salsa said. "Idiots lined up to bother Wild Half about the situation, and give him the heads up about how suspicious their loud neighbors or their nosy in-laws are."

"Those murders," Taketo said.

"They're bringing out the worst in people," Salsa said, frustrated.

"Murders?" Wolf commented brightly. "That sounds fun." Taketo didn't want to know whether Wolf meant the murdering or the investigating -- he really, really didn't want to know.

Salsa leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, staring at the ceiling. "Only one person today showed up to talk about something that wasn't related to those killings. Said there'd been break-ins in an empty shop near her," Salsa said, absently rattling off the location.

"What are you supposed to do about it?" Taketo said. "Hasn't she called the police?"

"They wouldn't be interested either," Salsa said. "She was lying."

"Hunh?" Taketo stared. "Lying about what?"

"That I don't know," Salsa admitted. "I could smell it. When I pressed her to find out more than she'd told me, she got angry and left. Smart move: I wasn't in any position to follow her just then. It bothers me that --"

"Murders," Wolf cut in again, "like humans killing each other."

"Yeah, that would be the usual definition," Salsa said, annoyed.

"Hnn," Wolf said, lifting a hind paw to scratch behind his neck. "Like that guy today."

Taketo and Salsa stared at him. "What guy today?" Salsa said carefully.

"Wha-at? Is that Dog interested in that kind of thing?" Wolf said innocently. "Does he like to see bodies before the police do then?"

"Taketo, is there any silver in this place?" Salsa said. "I might try a little homicide myself."

"Huh," Wolf snorted, amused. He flopped back down on the table, and rested his head on his paws. "Wolf already felt like shit, then Wolf used a lot of _seimei-ryoku_ healing up after that fight. So then that guy flooded the whole block with his damn stupid shrieking feelings. Too strong," he admitted, looking pissed.

"Where?" Salsa and Taketo shouted at the same time.

"Dunno," Wolf said, shrugging. "Ask your loud cop brother where they picked me up. Wolf would say," he paused, considering, "guy was getting killed maybe a block from there. Blood was pretty smelly. Hnn, probably won't have any problem finding it from there, even with a lame dog nose."

"I'll call my brother," Taketo said, darting for the phone.

"Well?" Wolf demanded, smug.

"We'll pick you up very, very early tomorrow," Salsa said grudgingly.

"Could it be," Wolf wondered aloud, "that Dog is thinking Wolf might know even more?"

"Bastard." Shuddering at his huge sacrifice, Salsa said, "I'll give you all my soup bones while you're here."

"Good enough," Wolf said, flicking an ear.

* * *

**7.**

Salsa hadn't had any trouble smelling out the apartment, once they'd known the area to search. It was on the top floor of an old building under renovation, so none of the units was occupied. The work crew on the main floor had gone home for the day, so it was even easier to enter unobserved than they'd feared.

Salsa hadn't wanted Taketo to come at all: "Don't you have any studying to do?" But he'd insisted anyway: "I told you my break's started." So here he was, picking his way down the hallway in Salsa's wake, as he grumbled, "Don't step on that plaster there," "Hey, don't touch anything," "Watch your head, stupid."

"Hey, I used to come with you all the time when you were working," Taketo pointed out. "Give me a little credit here." He rubbed his chest, absently. Taketo had come to realize that he'd been rubbing his mark lately because it ached, in an indistinct but persistent way. But he'd only begun to notice it after Salsa had pointed out his newest habit. Could it be arguing with Salsa that was setting it off? he wondered. But hadn't they always argued like this?

And now, standing outside the door to the apartment Salsa had found, he also wondered if maybe he should have stayed behind after all. What if this turned out to be someone he knew?

"It's not," Salsa said curtly, nostrils flaring. He added, "Much as it completely pisses me off to be in Wolf's debt for anything . . . the police really haven't been here yet. We need to be doubly careful not to mess up any of their evidence." Taketo watched as Salsa undid his bandana then paused, concentrating.

After a few moments, Taketo asked, "Um, Salsa? Is something wrong?"

"Nothing," Salsa snapped, clearly making an effort. "Don't rush me." Finally, a few locks of his long hair, charged with his _seimei-ryoku_, lifted to the keyhole to pick the lock.

"You really think you're going to find something useful?" Taketo asked, masking a worry now forming in the back of his mind: Did Salsa seem to be weaker these days? How long had he been using that much effort for his _seimei-ryoku?_ How had Taketo missed this?

"Yeah, probably," Salsa said, focusing on the lock. "If nothing else, I can compare what I see here with the news reports to find out what the police leave out. That'll tell me what they think is significant here."

"Oh," Taketo said quietly, as the lock gave way. Another few strands of hair slid the door aside with a creak. Beyond was a dark room, with only dying sunlight and streetlight illumination from the windows. Taketo pulled the flashlight from his pocket -- he'd need it, even if Salsa didn't.

They stepped into the room, and the body was immediately evident -- out in the open in the main room of the apartment, propped up against the wall.

"As expected," Salsa muttered, "that damned Wolf was right on the money -- male, 30ish, tied up."

Taketo bit his lip, feeling queasy. Wolf had also said to expect a lot of blood, and hadn't been wrong about that either. "He said this guy didn't know the killer," Taketo said. Though Wolf had also gotten a whiff of the killer's feelings, he didn't know enough about human nature to make much sense of it except the curious observation that he didn't think the killer and victim knew each other.

"Yeah," Salsa replied absently, examining the floor before carefully walking nearer to the body and leaning in. He lifted away the shirt with a single claw. "All rope. You said you were going to be useful, so start writing this down for me."

Taketo tucked the flashlight under his arm and pulled out a notebook and pen. He scribbled down Salsa's comments as he continued to examine the body, tendrils of hair searching for what wasn't obvious to the eye. Later, Salsa moved on to the rest of the room.

"So," Salsa was saying, "knife this time, about this long." He held apart his hands. "Someone who knew right where to use it, no messing around. Like that third killing, but --" Then, "Oi, Taketo. Point it right there." Taketo shone the light where Salsa indicated, and tried to ignore his churning stomach. If the smell in this enclosed space was bothering him, it must have been hell for Salsa, whose nose was sensitive enough to pick up a passing whim.

"Yeah," Salsa said, eyeing the smears of blood on the wall. "Seen that before." He sat back on his heels, resting his chin on his forearms. "Huh. Smelled this guy's trace before, too. He was at that last murder scene."

"What?" Taketo said. "What was he doing there?"

"Don't know," Salsa admitted. "There were lots of people's smells in the area, but I remember this one for being one of the strongest ones. Like I said last night, I've smelled that kind of overlap with the others, too. I need to think about this." He stood up, and said regretfully, "I'd like to take a look at the rest of this place, but we've got to go."

"Go?" Taketo said. "Why?"

As if in reply, "On the third floor!" came the shout. Several other voices called out as well.

"Go," Salsa repeated. "Time for the cops. We're taking the back door." He grabbed Taketo's arm and hauled him into the back room of the apartment, where he unlatched and slid back the window with a few strands of hair, then dropped down to all fours in his dog form. "You know the drill -- hang on," he ordered.

"Are you sure?" Taketo said. "I'm a little taller now --"

"Just do it," Salsa said curtly.

"I used to hate this part," Taketo muttered, stuffing his light and notebook securely back into his pockets. He wrapped his arms around Salsa's neck, grabbed handfuls of his coat, as Salsa braced underneath him -- in the next instant they were airborne, as Salsa leapt out, aiming for the nearest rooftop below.

"Ung, damn," Salsa grunted, "think you _are_ heavier now." His claws scrabbled for traction in the flat roof's gravel. "Your brother's going to be home pretty late tonight. So let's watch TV."

* * *

**8.**

"Interesting," Salsa said, slapping his paw down on the TV remote. "Let's play that part again."

"Urgh," Taketo groaned. He'd taped the news special as Salsa had asked, but he hadn't known that he'd wind up watching it over and over as well.

"Isn't it great that the media in this town are such ghouls?" Salsa said, staring at the screen. "Helpful of them to put it all together this way."

"I'm not finding it great," Taketo said.

"Damn tiny buttons. Here, _you_ take over the button pushing," Salsa said, nosing the remote to him. "Go back about 10 minutes to the footage of that fifth crime scene." He started pawing through the newspaper clippings again.

"That's the guy who was strangled in the park bathroom?" Taketo said, gulping.

"Yeah," Salsa said distantly, reading. "And then he was knifed on top of that. Of course, if someone would just ask his brother for more information, we wouldn't have to do this, would we?"

"We've already talked about this," Taketo said.

"So I have to do this instead," Salsa said. "Pause it right there." He turned back to his reading.

"I don't see what you're seeing," Taketo said, sighing.

"Hang on a moment," Salsa said. "Two of them were hard up for money, but this guy," he nosed the article, "had a good job. This other one was a high school student." He looked up at the TV. "Six murders over two months. The killer isn't following any pattern -- the pattern is that there's isn't a pattern. Not with the killings themselves."

Taketo glanced at him. "You mean there's something else."

"Something I noticed at that apartment we went to tonight," Salsa said. "Seeing it in person made me remember something that had bothered me about this particular murder. Hit play." A few moments later, he called for 'pause.' "Now take a look at the far wall."

"The wall?" Taketo said, peering at the TV.

"Yeah. This guy was strangled. But _then_ he was stabbed. Why stab him after he was dead?"

Taketo thought about it. "To make sure? Or maybe . . . for blood? Is that some sort of mark on the wall?"

"Four smaller ones, one larger one," Salsa said. "Remind you of anything?"

"Um, not really," Taketo admitted.

"Here, look at these then," Salsa said, shoving over a few of the articles with photos. "Here and here."

Taketo examined them, as Salsa began to lick his paw. He saw that Salsa had a point. "There's something like it at each place. At first they look like random blood smears, but --"

"They're deliberate," Salsa said. "I'm sure of it. But they're also very different. Let's say different people under duress attempted to copy the same mark. They'd get different results, but it's the same mark."

"Four smaller ones on one larger one," Taketo said, "I guess it seems familiar, but --"

Salsa slapped his wet paw on the notebook. "Here," he said. "Something you see all week if you work at Luna Rental Pet Shop -- all over the floor, printed on all paperwork, stenciled on the side of her van."

Taketo stared at the wrinkling paper before him. "A paw print?" he said. "No way!"

"Way," Salsa said darkly. "Now I just have to figure out _why._"

"But why 'different people', you said?"

"I don't think it's been the same killer," Salsa said. "I think they're all different."

"But how is that possible, if they've all got --?"

"When I know, I'll let you know," Salsa said irritably. They'd finished with their television horror marathon by the time Taketo's brother returned, late as Salsa had predicted.

"What are you still doing up?" Toshifumi said, astonished.

"Hey, I'm a college student, we're supposed to stay up late. Here's dinner," Taketo said, laying out the dishes. "And the bath is still heated. And I've made all of your favorite --"

"Just tell me what you want," his brother interrupted, grumpy.

"Uh," Taketo said. "About that guy today, Wolf? He was going to stay at Karasuma-sensei's, but --"

"As long as it's not in my room, I don't care where you shove that idiot," he brother said, yawning. "But anyone who wakes me up before I have to get up -- and that includes you and the mutt --"

"Got it," Taketo said. "Thanks!"

"Now, you, bed," his brother ordered, "And take that with you," he said, pointing at Salsa, who was panting, wagging his tail, and looking stupidly friendly and brimming with brotherly love on the far side of the room. "What's wrong with him?" his brother said, edging away.

"Salsa? He's not doing anything," Taketo said. But he was also surprised. He wondered why Salsa hadn't rushed for the door for a change.

Stretched out on Taketo's bed later, pawing through his notebook, Salsa observed, "I was right."

"About what?" Taketo said, peeling off his shirt.

Salsa frowned, and stared moodily at the notebook. "I gave your brother some space tonight to throw him off balance, and I finally got something out of him. Only one thing puts your brother in precisely that kind of foul mood," Salsa said. "They got a fax about the location from Wild Half."

"From you?" Taketo said. "But you didn't --"

"I didn't," Salsa said. "Exactly. Did you think that it was a coincidence that they showed up right when I was on the scene? The other bodies were discovered within days, and usually by accident. Landlord checking on a missed payment, kids playing in a park, " he said, flicking a page aside with his tongue.

"Someone wanted them to find _you_ there?" Taketo said, incredulous. "But nobody knows that you're Wild Half but me."

"I wonder," Salsa said, irritated. "Taketo, pajamas. Wear 'em."

"Oh, right," Taketo said, picking up his top and putting it on. "So if that's true," he persisted, "what are you going to do about it?"

"After we take care of that business tomorrow morning, I'll look into a few things," he said, jumping off the bed. Ignoring Taketo's protests, he dragged the blanket off the bed, into the corner.

"But," Taketo asked, "don't you want me to brush you tonight?"

"No," Salsa said.

"_No?_ Are you serious?"

Salsa curled around facing the wall, and proceded to ignore Taketo until he gave up and went to bed himself.

* * *

**9.**

"We're too early," Taketo murmured, peering through the glass of the Karasuma Animal Clinic's front door. "I don't think anyone's up yet."

"That's too bad," said Salsa, turning away. "We'll have to come back later. Like next year."

"Hold it." Taketo snagged his collar. "Let's try knocking on the back window," he suggested.

Taketo followed Salsa around to the back, where they both climbed over the fencing and fought their way through the bushes. Despite the muzziness left over from a late night, Taketo had woken to a face full of cold, wet dog nose and felt exceptionally happy about it. He didn't even mind showing up this early at the clinic on his day off to collect Wolf.

He knocked gingerly on the glass of the bedroom window and waited. After a few moments, the curtain with little Ginsei pictures printed on it slid aside, followed by the window. A pair of sleepy eyes peered back at him from below a wild mop of silvery hair. "What? Taketo?" Ginsei said. "Salsa?"

"Um, yeah," Taketo said, embarrassed. "I know it's early, but we thought you'd like to get rid of Wolf, so --"

"Say no more," Ginsei said, feelingly. "I also believe this a worthy cause. He had that TV going all night long." He yawned. "Excuse me. Kaoru wanted to make breakfast today. If you go over to the door, I'll let you in."

Taketo walked over to the back door to wait with Salsa. "Wow, does Sensei really let Ginsei sleep on his bed when he's in his human form?" Taketo wondered aloud. "There can't be much room that way."

Salsa gave a strangled cough. "What?" Taketo said. "He's a lot bigger than you are. If you weren't a dog, it's not like I'd want to share either."

"No comment," Salsa said sourly.

The glass door slid aside, Ginsei motioned them in. The muffled blare of the TV set was immediately evident. Taketo smothered a laugh. The long fall of hair down Ginsei's back had apparently been braided at some earlier point, but now it was a matted mess, and Ginsei had wrapped himself in a bathrobe with "Kaoru" printed all over it. Taketo had never seen tidy, orderly Ginsei looking this disheveled before.

"As you can see, we're still at sixes and sevens this morning," Ginsei said, "but -- "

"Ohhhhh! My loooove! My Ginsei! I've huuuungered for your touch!" came the bellow from the direction of the kitchen, followed by a crash of crockery and a more prosaic 'ouch.' Then the song started up again: "A looong, lonely time! And time! Gooooes by! So slooooowly!"

"Um, Ginsei," Taketo said.

"No, it's fine," Ginsei assured them serenely. "We haven't started on the extra set of dishes." But as Karasuma continued to wail off-key, Ginsei looked more and more uneasy, until a smell of burning and "No, the miso!" informed that the food itself was also in danger.

"Pardon me a moment," Ginsei said wanly. "It can't be helped."

The moment he disappeared into the kitchen, a querulous voice from the other direction asked, "Have you come to save Wolf?"

"Wolf?" Taketo said, surprised. Wolf apparently had made it as far as his half-human form overnight; he was crouched in the doorway looking befurred and bedraggled. Although his pointed ears and brushy tail were drooping, he did look less pale than the day before. He also looked a lot more tired. "What's the matter?" Taketo asked.

"Wolf wants to leave _now,_" he said, leaning over to look furtively past Taketo. "They're demons here."

"Well, I heard you were blasting the TV all night, so not the perfect guest yourself," Salsa pointed out.

"Yeah, _all night,_" Wolf confirmed darkly. "Wolf had no choice!"

"We have to get your prescription from Sensei," Taketo said. "He's making breakfast right now . . ." Sensei's tone-deaf singing had cut off shortly after Ginsei had disappeared, and now the kitchen seemed oddly quiet. "I think? Maybe we should check on --"

"Watch TV with Wolf," Wolf said, grabbing his arm. Salsa had already scrambled through the doorway, calling back, "Look, a program on growing trees! Taketo, we can't miss this."

Bewildered, Taketo sat tucked between a dazed Wolf and an intense, concentrating Salsa as together they learned more about root depth, treatments for rot, and fertilizer options. The program had just started to discuss beetle infestations when Karasuma wobbled through the doorway, still dressed in his pajamas with little Ginsei images printed all over them.

"Good morning!" he said, pushing on his glasses. "Taketo-kun, Salsa-kun, so you're here to visit Wolf-kun?"

Taketo prodded Wolf awake, as Salsa said, "Karasuma-sensei, we're taking him with us," in an undertone, he added, "damn it." In a more normal tone, he asked, "Taketo says he comes with medicine?"

"Ah, are you sure? That's too bad -- Ginsei and I will miss him," Karasuma said, sadly. "Well, let me step over to the clinic, and I can put the package together. I didn't realize that you'd come this early, or I've have let Ginsei make breakfast."

_Ginsei didn't tell him we were here about twenty minutes ago?_ Taketo wondered.

_Fascinating,_ Salsa replied. _I had no idea that limb pruning was so controversial._

_You have weird interests,_ Taketo thought.

Ginsei joined them again not long after, now dressed in a turtleneck shirt and jeans, tying on an apron with "I heart Kaoru" embroidered on the front. "Why yes," he confirmed, "we're _terribly_ sorry to see Wolf go."

"Demons," Wolf muttered.

"You could be right," Salsa muttered.

"Hunh?" Taketo said.

* * *

**10.**

When they got back to the Iwase apartment, Wolf made a beeline for the hallway and Taketo's bedroom. In an instant, Salsa had latched onto the the tail of his coat and hauled him back. "Oi!" he yelled, "where the hell d'you think you're going?"

"Wolf needs sleep now," he said.

"First," Salsa said, "you take off your boots. Second, you say, 'I'm sorry to be a bother!', and third --"

"Wolf isn't sorry," he said.

"That comes as no surprise," Salsa snapped.

"Why should Wolf take off his boots?" He pointed an accusatory finger. "You! Dog is like all dogs -- he wants to steal Wolf's boots and chew on them, doesn't he?"

"What?!"

Taketo toed off his own sneakers, and quickly ducked under the flying boot. He left them to sort it out while he went to his room to change his clothes for work at the pet shop. Behind him he could hear the roar of "Third! Freeloaders get the couch!" To hear Salsa of all dogs lecturing Wolf on good manners made the entire morning worthwhile; Taketo would never forget that day when Salsa had imperiously announced that he was moving in, commanding Taketo to cater to his needs. Well, I'd always wanted a dog, hadn't I? he thought philosophically. So it worked out fine.

Salsa joined him shortly afterward, fuming, "Nothing good can come of this." He threw himself into the corner and nosed a ratty sandal out of his pile of trash. He began to chew on it moodily. "If that asshole even _thinks_ about marking anything in this place, I'll kill 'im."

"Well," Taketo said, "it's only for -- uh."

"Yeah, 'uh.' _That's_ what I mean," Salsa said. "Who knows how long he's staying?"

Taketo went back to making his bed. _If you'd stop fighting with him,_ he mused, _he'd probably get bored staying around here, too._ Salsa didn't respond to that at all; puzzled, Taketo repeated it out loud.

"Huh!" Salsa snorted. "Tell the moon to stop rising while you're at it."

_Which reminds me,_ Taketo thought, rubbing the mark on his chest. He could hear Salsa grumbling aloud to himself about Taketo, Wolf, Ginsei, and the degraded quality of chewable footwear these days, but Taketo no longer felt that stream of dog consciousness in his mind that he'd grown so accustomed to during high school. Over the past year, it had gradually faded until now he only found himself reacting to the feelings that Salsa pointedly, specifically directed at him. The same seemed to be true the opposite direction as well.

"Hey. Let me see it."

In the quiet of his own thoughts that remained, Taketo felt oddly bereft. Maybe all of that had just been a passing phase? he wondered. Maybe being alone like this is what it meant to become an adult. Maybe they'd even keep growing farther apart until one day --

"Oof!" Taketo rubbed the back of his head. Something had . . . a wet, chewed up foam sandal? "Hey!"

"Listen when people are talking to you," Salsa said, irritably. "I just said I wanted to look. So take it off."

"Ehh?" Taketo clutched his collar and shrank back. "Look at what?"

"Your mark. You're rubbing your chest again." He peered at Taketo. "What did you think I meant?"

"It's, it's the way you put it!" Taketo huffed, dropping down to Salsa's level on the floor. "Be clearer about what you mean, geez."

"Why," Salsa said, snorting, "are you acting like your virtue's in danger here? Like those asinine AVs Sakaki and Takeda were always bringing over in high school." He struck a stern pose and said in a deep growl, "But I carried your groceries back to your apartment, didn't I? Time to show your gratitude!" He sprawled on the floor, paws clasped to his chest, whining, "Oh no, sempai! I'm ever so grateful, but I couldn't possibly share my melons. Oh no, stop, oh, oh!" Salsa stuck out his tongue. "No wonder those two didn't pass the entrance exams the first time." He rolled to his feet and trotted over to park himself in front of Taketo.

"Can't believe you watched any of those," Taketo said, unbuttoning his shirt. "Anyway, I didn't mind -- their families were always home during the day, and my brother wasn't. We could always go play Frisbee until they were happy."

"Happy," Salsa repeated in a distant tone. Taketo's shirt had fallen open, and Salsa was staring at the mark on his chest with the intensity he usually reserved for watching Taketo eat dinner. Taketo had learned long ago how to ignore a staring dog while he was eating; but it was a little more difficult to ignore when he felt like he was on the platter.

"Um, Salsa?" he said. "Does it look different to you?" He could understand Salsa's interest, especially if his power really had been weakening.

This mark had first appeared on Taketo's chest in the wake of their first major falling out. During all the fighting and retaliation, Taketo had thought that he'd accidentally thrown out Salsa's only keepsake from his former master, the collar given to him by Mitsuki Katsuragi. When he and Salsa had finally reconciled, a crescent moon mark had burned itself into Taketo's chest, which had waxed over time, finally reaching a full phase on the night they'd decided to confront Salsa's inner werewolf. Taketo's mark was still full -- and he was positive that his feelings for Salsa hadn't changed. _Yet didn't Salsa seem weaker last night?_

That night he'd first gotten this mark, Salsa had told him that anywhere that smelled of Taketo was his best, most comfortable place. So when did that stop being true? Taketo wondered. He was sure now that Salsa had been avoiding him. _Why?_

"Looks the same. You said it hurt," Salsa said, leaning forward and sniffing it.

"Not . . . hurting," Taketo said. "Not exactly. More like aching. It's not bad, not really." He thought about it now. "I can't remember it ever feeling this way in the past, except for when . . ."

"When," Salsa prompted.

"That time when you went with Shouhei Abe," Taketo admitted, feeling ashamed. "He said he was your master, and you didn't say he wasn't. He put his own collar on you, and you let him. So I didn't know what to think, and I doubted you at first -- which was stupid of me. I never have again. So there's no reason for it to feel the same way." _Except,_ his mind prompted him. He ignored it.

"Taketo," Salsa said. "Listen, I --"

"I trust you completely," Taketo said firmly. "You're my dog."

Whatever Salsa said been about to say, he apparently changed his mind. Instead, He leaned forward and sniffed. "Doesn't smell different," Salsa muttered. With that, he stuck out his tongue and dragged it over the mark slowly. "Tastes the same, too."

Taketo gasped, shrinking back. He'd felt the contact of Salsa's tongue on his skin, but also farther inside. Somewhere. And that somewhere seemed to be resonating uncomfortably now, like a struck tuning fork. _Is that the stone?_ he wondered.

"What?" Salsa demanded. "You got something against dog spit now?"

"Yeah," Taketo agreed without thinking, "feels kind of gross." Salsa's eyes narrowed, and Taketo realized that he'd just said precisely the wrong thing -- Salsa was already hunkering down.

"No, that's not what I meant!" Taketo scrambling backward on the floor, "Wait, uh, Salsa -- no, Salsa-_sama_, I, I totally apologize!"

"Too late!" Salsa snapped back, kicking off and taking him down like a fur wrecking ball.

"Woah!" Taketo shouted. "No!"

"Ha! So you don't like dog drool now? Well, how about this?" Salsa said, covering Taketo's entire face with wet tongue, leaving copious slobber. "How about _this?_" Salsa was pushing his wet tongue into Taketo's ear, "And _this?_"

"Gugh! No, Salsa, cut it out --!" Taketo said, trying with no success to push him off. Inside his chest, the resonance had increased -- it was now like a hum that he could almost hear. He grabbed for a handful of Salsa's pelt, but his hands slid over skin.

Salsa had butted aside Taketo's chin so he could lick his neck, and now his hand dropped down; he began to finger the mark on Taketo's chest, running the pads of his fingers over it, tracing the circle shape.

"Mnn," Salsa said.

"Salsa, uh," Taketo said. _Wait. Skin, fingers,_ he thought, dazed. _Salsa changed._

Salsa muttered something that sounded like Taketo's name, then pulled back a little to move down; he began to lick the mark on Taketo's chest, long strokes of wetness, then tracing the shape with the tip of his tongue. His hand dropped lower to fumble with the last few buttons on Taketo's shirt. "Protect . . . only you," Salsa was mumbling, nuzzling and licking his mark, "fight only for you . . ."

Taketo shivered, clutching at Salsa's shoulders and wondering what he should do. Nothing like this had ever happened before. The humming sensation radiating out from his chest as Salsa touched his mark was making him dizzy.

Salsa now grasped Taketo's hip and pulled him up against him. Then he pushed Taketo's shirt aside, and began to stroke his stomach with his palm. "Mmm, Taketo," he murmured, "down here, right? You like it right here?"

_What did he say?_ Taketo thought, the fog lifting a little. Wasn't that . . . what he'd say to Salsa when he was brushing him? Taketo stiffened. Then he grabbed a handful of Salsa's hair and yanked as hard as he could. "Hey, Salsa!" he said. "Hold it. What's going on?"

Salsa lifted his head. "Hunh?" he said, looking befuddled.

"Salsa," Taketo said. "I think we need to --"

Salsa sat up abruptly, staring at him. "Taketo," he said.

"Yes, me," Taketo agreed. He tried again, "Salsa, listen, we need to --"

"Shit," Salsa breathed, horrified. "What the hell was I doing to you?" He jerked away the hand that was still resting on Taketo's stomach.

"No, I'm fine," Taketo said quickly, "but I think we need to --" But Salsa wasn't listening -- he was a black and tan streak of fur shooting though the door. Taketo scrambled to catch up. "Salsa, wait!" The front door slammed just as Taketo stumbled into the living room.

"I think we need to talk?" Taketo said lamely to the closed door.

Behind him, he heard that the TV had been going full blast. "Why won't anyone let Wolf sleep?" the lump of blankets on the couch grumbled. "First old guys, now you guys. Let's play _later._"

"Hunh?" Taketo said. With that, he caught sight of the clock -- he was going to be late at the pet shop if he didn't run. He sighed. _Oh, terrific._ He'd have to try to catch Salsa later.

* * *

**11.**

"Taketo-kun, good morning!" Maria Sugitani called as he entered her shop, Luna Rental Pet. Taketo could feel the snap of attention turn his direction, and the faint chorus of _Taketo onii-san!_, _Taketo aniki_, _Onii-chaaaan!_ Then the wild barking cut loose, and the swarm was upon him, dogs of every shape and size, all of which had been running loose in the shop.

"Oh my! They're always so glad to see you," Maria said cheerfully. "They like you and Salsa-kun so much."

"Um, I like them too, Maria-san, but --" Taketo protested, pushing dozens of dog noses away from his crotch. "You guys, cut that out." _Down?_ someone asked, and _Yeah, down down down!_ was the shouted reply. "Hey, wait!" Taketo yelled, but it was too late -- behind him someone had rolled into his ankles, and he upended backward onto the floor. _Yes!_ In an instant, he was covered with squirming, whining bundles of furry enthusiasm, and dog tongues were slobbering all over his face: _Taketo onii-sama! Taketo-onii!_ But it wasn't as deafening as it could be; without Salsa's presence to amplify them into something approximating voice, the thoughts of ordinary animals were always faint to him.

"This really is my morning for spit baths," he said, fending them off. "Guys, what's with you lately? C'mon!"

"You guys," said a flat, feminine voice. "Leave him alone. Now." Taketo peered around a waving tail and saw for the first time that Mirei, Miya Kitahara's wild-half tabby cat, was sitting in the corner in her human form, sporting a shop apron. In one hand, she was waving a kitten, in the other a small feeding bottle that was now pointed at the assembled pack. All of the dogs hastily backed off, the chorus turning to hasty, apologetic _Mirei onee-chan,_ _Mirei-sama,_ _Onee-san._

"Taketo, good morning," Mirei said firmly. Then she added, in a musing tone, "Salsa's not with you again? So you've made my Salsa unhappy today?"

"Not, not unhappy exactly," Taketo said, shrinking away. He was used to none of his thoughts being truly private around a wild-half, but Mirei's unholy admiration for Salsa could make life dangerous for anyone who crossed him. But at least Mirei's cat nose wasn't nearly as sensitive as a dog's. "We had a little argument, that's all."

"Oh," Mirei said, dissmissive. "Is that all. When aren't you arguing?"

"Yeah, I guess that's true," Taketo said, still backing away.

Mirei turned her attention back to the great dane, one of Maria's more recent adoptees, who was looming over the pen of kittens. This huge dog, Taketo had heard, had been kept far too long leashed in a cramped, fenced area outside an apartment building; he'd taken to menacing the residents, and one day had even tried to attack his owner -- who'd immediately turned the dog over to Maria and walked away without a second glance. "No love lost," Maria had sighed. "But we'll do what we can to find someone who'll take better care of Pocchi-kun."

Unlike Maria with her perpetual optimism, Taketo didn't have high hopes -- the unsuitable name was the least of the dog's problems. He'd not only been subtly bullying the other pets of the shop, but he'd been taking far too much interest in the box of abandoned kittens Maria had brought in two days before. Salsa probably could have knocked some sense into him; but then, Salsa hadn't often been accompanying Taketo these days.

"Pocchi-kun," Mirei said pleasantly, "if you try to eat them, Mirei will eat you." She smiled at him prettily. The dog curled its lip: _Thought hadn't crossed my mind._ Taketo winced at his arrogant tone.

"Of course not," Mirei said, setting down the bottle. "Everyone loves kittens. In fact, I believe you're going to take special care of these kittens, aren't you?" She glared at the dog, hard: "Because you love kittens, too."

The great dane's expression went briefly panicked and stiff, then lapsed into slack-jawed. _Kittens,_ he thought. _Kittens are . . . special._

"Yes, that's right, they're so verrry special," Mirei crooned. She shot out a foot and handily knocked the huge dog off his paws. "And now they're verrry sleepy. They need a big, strong pillow to sleep on," she said, and began to pile the kittens on top of him. "Please don't move again until they wake up, Pocchi-kun."

"Uhhh," Pocchi moaned, drooling slightly as one of the kittens batted his nose, and piped, _Ma ma ma?_

Taketo swallowed. Mirei's particular power could be terrifying. "I still don't think that's really the best way to reform someone's character," Taketo said, looking away hastily as Mirei's glare transferred itself to him. _Even though he had it coming,_ Taketo had to admit.

"Yes, he _did,_" Mirei said, agreeing with the thought. "Speaking of reforming characters, I need to talk to you about my Mistress -- Oh!"

"I'm back now!" Taketo had been saved by the chiming shop bell, as Miya Kitahara herself entered store with an armload of lunchboxes.

"Mistress! Welcome back!" Mirei shouted, scrambling up to hug her. "Let me take those!"

"Mirei," she said, blushing, "but they're not heavy." Then she noticed Taketo: "Oh, Taketo-kun, good morning!" she said, surprised. "I didn't realize you were working today!"

"Good morning, Miya-chan," he said. "I was supposed to come yesterday, but I had to reschedule."

"Salsa's not with you?" she said, looking around.

"Not today," Taketo said, sweating lightly under Mirei's intense scrutiny.

"Well, this works out nicely though," Miya said. "I got a few extras today in case a customer came in over the lunch hour and wanted to stay longer."

"Oh my!" Maria had joined them in the front, and was now saying, astonished, "Pocchi-kun! I had no idea he was fond of kittens!" She dropped to her knees to rub the great dane's ears and praise him lavishly for being such a good dog today. "Oh, this is adorable," she burbled.

"The kittens are, even if their bed isn't," Mirei said in a satisfied tone.

"Taketo-kun," Miya whispered, "Mirei didn't, did she?"

"She totally did," he said.

"Not again," Miya sighed. "I'll talk to her."

Taketo tied on his own shop apron, and repaired to the back room of the shop to get started reorganizing Maria's untidy inventory of supplies. "Everybody out," he shooed at the milling throng of pets who'd insisted on piling after him -- all the dogs, several cats, and a ferret. But Taketo-onii-saaan . . . "Go out front. C'mon, you want families, right? No one's going to notice you if you're hiding back here," he said.

"Get out there you slackers, and be cute for your supper!" Polynesia squawked at them, flapping into the room and coming to a landing squarely on Taketo's head.

"Polynesia," Taketo suggested, "maybe you should go oversee their efforts?"

"Ho, you're not working either, are you?" the parrot accused. "Get crackin'!" He leapt down to Taketo's shoulder and nipped him firmly on the ear, ignoring Taketo's yelps of pain. For the next half-hour, Polynesia swooped about the room from shelf to box to his shoulder, critiquing his paperwork and barking orders as his personal on-site supervisor.

It was a relief when Maria came through the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron. "I'm just getting more water for the rabbits' cage," she said. "Don't mind me, Taketo-kun."

As she filled her pitcher at the sink, Maria said, elaborately casual, "So, Taketo-kun, how is your Onii-san doing this week?"

Taketo blinked. "He didn't call yesterday?"

"Ah, well, yes, Onii-san called," she admitted. "He wasn't very . . . " she chewed on her lip, "oh, how do I put this? He seemed a little incoherent."

Taketo smothered a laugh. His brother's thought processes always collapsed into rubble around Maria. "He's busy with work this week," he said.

"So he said," she said, with a moue of disappointment. "He also canceled our regular drinking party this week with Karasuma-sensei." She added, sadly, "And I was so looking forward to it. I was going to bring Pocchi-kun and Faithful-kun and Momo-kun with me this week. Onii-san loves dogs so much, I know he'd want to meet them."

Taketo choked. "Uh, Maria-san . . ."

"Oi," Polynesia muttered in his ear, "your brother, isn't he the one who --?"

"Hush," Taketo said quickly. "Maria-san, he'll probably have more time next week, but he might be tired. Smaller pets might be all right." _And no dogs ever,_ but he couldn't tell her that.

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea," she said. "Pets are so wonderfully therapeutic. Still, I wonder if this work schedule Onii-san's been keeping isn't going to interfere with his love life. We three definitely have to get together next week."

"Eh?" Taketo said, straightening.

"Well," she said, tone practical, "if he doesn't invite Karasuma-sensei over more often, Onii-san will never succeed in getting his attention, will he? Onii-san is so shy!" she said, sighing. "I want to support a resolution for his unrequited love."

_Not this again._ "Maria-san, I'm certain my brother isn't interested in Karasuma-sensei. Trust me."

"Taketo-kun," she said, "I know such things are difficult to understand -- well, yes, even for me, but . . . Well, one day, you'll see that love can be truly blind." She raised her arm to make a muscle: "Yes! I sincerely believe we must support Toshifumi-san's decision! Let's work hard to help him!" With that, she announced brightly, "And now, on to the rabbit pen!"

She swung open the door to the closet and walked into it.

_Toshifumi-san?_ Taketo blinked. After a few moments, he peered into the closet after her.

She'd come to a complete halt a few steps inside and was staring blindly at the bottles of cleanser on the shelf. Taketo sighed, setting aside his clipboard. He leaned into the closet, snagged the back of her apron and gently tugged her backward into the room. Then he repositioned her until she was pointed toward the front of the shop, and placed the pitcher of water into her hands.

"That's right," he agreed, "the rabbits."

"Rabbits?" She blinked, confused. "Yes, the rabbit pen! I'm going to give them water!" she said cheerfully, striding mechanically toward the front of the shop where the rabbits were currently occupying pride of place that day in the window.

"Oh no, Maria-san, please don't step on the turtle!" came a cry from Miya in front.

Maria's reputation for matching people with compatible pets was unrivaled, but her own personal relationships tended to be a shambles. Partially that was Taketo's brother's fault, he knew. "Right. He says it's none of my business, but if he doesn't do something soon," Taketo muttered to Polynesia, "I'm going to take drastic measures."

"Ha, manly initiative. I approve!" Polynesia said, smacking him with a wing.

"Ow," Taketo grunted.

The rest of his day went by as it usually did, and Taketo was relieved to have the busywork to distract him. But, by the time he was hanging up his apron, he'd returned to considering the problem with Salsa.

That was when Mirei finally pounced.

"Taaaakeeeetoooo!" she said, backing him into the corner.

"Mirei," he said, "I was just going home, I really need to --"

"You really need to ask out my Mistress -- my, my _sister,_ I mean," she corrected herself hastily, as Maria walked in to join them.

"Taketo-kun," Maria said, "isn't it time for you to leave now?"

"Yes!" Taketo agreed, sliding along the wall. "I was just going!"

"After he talks to me," Mirei added smoothly, snagging him by the tail of his jacket and hauling him back.

"Fine, fine," Maria said, "I was just checking in case you'd lost track of time. I'm sure Salsa-kun's waiting for you."

"I'm sure he is, too," Taketo said, not sure of it at all.

"We'll only be a moment, Maria-san," Mirei insisted, smiling innocently and wrestling him into the back room.

_No, Maria-san, don't leave me_, Taketo wept to himself, as Mirei shoved him against the wall.

"What's with the sobbing?" Mirei said testily. "I just want to talk to you." She glared at him, eyes wide. "You really want to talk to me, don't you?"

"That doesn't work on me," he reminded her.

"Hmph. There's always a first time," she said.

_That's what I'm afraid of,_ Taketo thought, sweating lightly. "Listen, Mirei --"

"No, you listen. My Mistress likes you!"

"And I like Miya-chan," Taketo assured her. "She's a terrific person. It's just --"

"It's just what? If you like her, then why haven't you asked her out? Coward," Mirei snapped. She grabbed Taketo's collar in her fist, and began to smack Taketo's face back and forth, saying. "She's been waiting . . . for you . . . to ask her out . . . on a date! I'm sure of it!"

"You are?" Taketo said, cheeks stinging.

Mirei frowned. "I . . . I am, yes. I'm sure. That's what she wants."

"You've asked her, then," Taketo said.

"I don't have to ask," Mirei said. "She's my Mistress -- I _know._"

"Mirei?"

Mirei and Taketo both froze. Mirei looked cautiously behind her, and cringed. "Mistress?"

"Mirei," Miya-chan said, astonished, "what are you doing back here?"

"Nothing!" Mirei said. "I was just having a little chat with Taketo." She stepped back hastily and began to yank on his shirt to straighten it out.

"Mirei, you're not trying to . . ." Miya flushed a deep, painful shade of red, and slumped. "Not again."

"Mistress," Mirei said, horrified. "No, I just wanted to give you, I mean, it's not what you're thinking . . ."

Taketo took pity on her. He cleared his throat, "Uh, Miya-chan, really she just wanted to talk to me again about all of us going out clubbing next week."

Mirei stared at him, and Miya looked up. "What?" she said. "All of us?"

"Um, yeah," Taketo said, shooting Mirei a significant look. "Or as many people as I can find who are home for break. A, uh, friend of mine from out of town is staying over at my place right now, and I promised him that we'd take him out. I'd mentioned it to Mirei before you showed up this morning, but we hadn't really discussed it yet."

"Oh," Miya said, blushing and raising a hand to her cheek. "I've never been out to a dance club before."

"Never?" Taketo said, surprised. Then he recalled that Miya had only regained her sight a few years before; she'd yet to shed most of her reclusive habits, in spite of having a radical extrovert like Mirei for a cat. "Would you like to go, then?" he said.

"Well," she said hesitantly. "If, if Mirei wanted to go . . ."

"Mistress!" Mirei said, eyes shining. She clutched Miya's hands. "I want to go with you! Anywhere you want to go!"

"But I don't know what to wear to that kind of place," Miya said diffidently.

"I'll take care of it!" Mirei said. "Mistress, please leave it to me! You'll look totally hot."

"But everything you wear is so . . . so tight and revealing, Mirei," Miya said, blushing. "I couldn't possibly --"

"I'll let the two of you work it out," Taketo said, backing off. If Miya went along, they definitely needed Mirei as her bodyguard, he thought. "The guy we're taking is a little under the weather right now, but he should be feeling better by next week. We can settle on an evening later, okay?"

"Rose," Mirei purred, wrapping her arms around her, "would look so sexy on you, Mistress. Off the shoulder."

"Oh, Mirei. Do you think so? But I don't know . . ."

Taketo slipped out of the store and headed for home.

* * *

**12.**

When Taketo got back to the apartment, the only response to his "I'm home!" was loud snoring. The half-naked Wolf sprawled partially off the couch, limbs akimbo, hadn't even twitched. _No Salsa?_ Taketo thought, frustrated.

"Well, first things first," Taketo said, turning to more immediate concerns. He toed off his sneakers, saying, "Wolf, hey, it's time for your medicine."

The snoring continued unabated.

"Honestly," Taketo sighed, heading for the kitchen to sort out the proper pills and pour a glass of water. He returned to the living room. "Wolf? Hey." He cautiously shook Wolf by the shoulder, and he slid off the couch the rest of the way onto the floor. "Mmn," he mumbled, rolling over.

"Wolf, c'mon, medicine," Taketo said again, now feeling a little desperate. He'd never encountered a situation like this at the clinic or at school. How do you give pills to sleeping wolves? he wondered. Eyeing Wolf, he admitted that it was unlikely that this variation of subject was ever going to come up; none of their clients resembled young men.

"Well, why not?" Taketo decided, after none of his efforts to wake up Wolf had panned out. "It always works in the comics." And it wasn't like Wolf was going to wake up and notice, so where was the harm? Taketo popped the pills into his own mouth, added a draught of water from the glass, then knelt down and plastered his mouth over Wolf's.

_Hey, it works,_ he thought happily, as Wolf swallowed the last of the pills. Then Wolf's arms shot out and wrapped themselves around Taketo's neck, jerking him off balance and down -- even as Wolf was rolling over on top of him and snuffling at his hair.

"Nnn," Wolf said, "Takahashi . . . smells nice."

"Huh?" Taketo said, "What?" Wolf's eyes weren't even open. _He's still asleep?_

"Hnn, yeah," Wolf murmured thickly, "you know what Wolf likes." Fending off Taketo's attempts to stop him, he yanked aside Taketo's shirt collar and began to lick his throat.

"No," Taketo said, "I _don't_ know -- I'm not Takahashi!" _And what on earth is he doing?_ Taketo wondered, as Wolf forced his knee between his legs. He frantically consulted his memory for 'Grandma's Devious Karate' -- and clouted Wolf on the side of the neck, even as he twisted to switch their positions.

"Ow, feisty," Wolf muttered sleeply, looking up at him unfocused. "But this way's good, too."

"I'm. Not. Takahashi," Taketo repeated.

Wolf blinked. "Eh?"

"I'm Taketo," he said.

"Eh?"

"You're staying at my place right now," Taketo said.

"Eh?" Wolf frowned, processing this. Then, at last, he gave a nod: "Yeah, okay. Taketo." But even as Taketo breathed a sigh of relief, Wolf was reaching up again happily: "Wolf really likes the service here!"

Taketo backpedaled across the room. "Cut it out!" he yelled.

"Nn," Wolf said, sitting up and licking his lips. "You gave Wolf some pills?"

"Um, yeah," Taketo said, face reddening. "I couldn't wake you up."

"Wolf's changed his mind. Takahashi needs to become a vet, too." He wrapped his hands behind his head, and stretched lazily. "Unh, Wolf still needs a little more sleep though." He held up two fingers and a thumb. "Okay. Three more hours. But then we do it on your bed."

"Uh," Taketo said, reddening, "I really wasn't --"

"Where's that stupid dog?" Wolf interrupted.

"That's what I wanted to ask you," Taketo said. "Did he come back while I was at work?"

Wolf shrugged, and tossed himself back on the couch. "Didn't hear him." He sniffed the air. "Nah. All old stuff -- hasn't been back since then."

Not good news, Taketo thought. "Wolf, listen. I'm going to make my brother's dinner, but I'll try to be quiet about it. Then I'm going to go out to look for Salsa. If he comes back while I'm gone --"

"Yeah, got it," Wolf said. "Tell him _he_ gets the couch."

"No, that's not --" Taketo gave up for now. "Please let him know I'm looking for him." Taketo had an idea of where to start, at least.

* * *

**13.**

Taketo had never been down this street before. This wasn't somewhere he was likely to walk with Salsa; the high walls abutting the sidewalks on both sides with apartment buildings tucked behind them left nothing but gray concrete and utility poles for a view, broken only by a red splash of postal box. He'd expected to see at least a few people walking around, but the street was empty, except for two kids on bicycles who disappeared into one of the enclosures farther down the street and a few crows sitting overhead on the utility wires. Farther down yet, several blocks away, he could see the chilly plastic light of a convenience store.

Taketo felt out of place and claustrophobic here. If Salsa was anywhere in this vicinity, he wasn't going to be easy to spot unless he came out onto the street. Obviously he wouldn't appreciate Taketo calling for him if he was trying to lay low at the moment.

So Taketo decided to leave it to Salsa. He'd walk the street a few times; if Salsa was here, he'd let him come out on his own. Taketo was just passing by the small row of shops closed for the evening, when he discovered that he hadn't been alone after all -- he walked right into side of a man who'd just stepped backward onto the sidewalk from the shadow of a shop entrance.

"Ah!" the man said, just as surprised. "Excuse me!" Then he doubled over, coughing.

"No, it was my fault," Taketo said hastily. "I didn't see you were there -- hey, are you all right?"

"Fine, all right . . . yes, it _is_ getting dark," the man agreed, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping his mouth. "I've just dropped my key, and now I can't seem to find the stupid thing."

Taketo shrugged. Why not? He wasn't in a hurry. "I could help you look," he offered. "You dropped it right around here?"

"Yes, it got stuck in the door, and I pulled on it too hard. Went flying right out of my hand," the man said, wheezing a little and scanning the ground. "It can't have gone far. I heard it hit the sidewalk."

"It's not on a key ring?"

"No, just the one key . . ."

Taketo was the one who found it. Off the curb, the last few rays of sunlight glinted off the tarnished metal. "It must have bounced a few times," he said, holding it up.

"Ah! Thank you, thank you very much," the man said, retrieving it from him. He turned, and, breathing heavily, jabbed it back into the door lock. Taketo hovered, unsure whether to simply leave as he wrestled with it. "I don't know . . . why this is sticking," he muttered. "I have to get in here tonight. I'm getting tired . . . of the complaints."

_Complaints?_ Taketo blinked. The windows of the shop were empty and dusty. What complaints could there be about an empty shop? Looking up, he now saw the number over the door was the one that Salsa had mentioned the day before at Karasuma's clinic. _Well, what were the chances?_ Taketo thought. Salsa might be somewhere around this very place, and if the man had been puttering with the lock for a while, he might be the one to ask.

"There, finally," the man huffed, as the door's latch clacked open, the bell inside clanking tinnily. He reached in and in a few moments a small entry light popped on.

"Um, excuse me," Taketo said, "if you've been here a while --"

"Yes?" the man said, peering back at him over his shoulder, his tone leery.

_He could think I'm the one who's been breaking in,_ Taketo thought suddenly. He had to admit that he probably did seem suspicious, loitering on this mostly empty street just as it was getting dark. "I'm looking for a lost dog," Taketo said quickly. "I was wondering if maybe you'd noticed one while you were here."

"A dog?" the man said, an odd note of strain in his voice.

"Uh, yeah," Taketo said. "He's a large --"

"-- black and tan dog?" the man finished in a rush. "That dog is yours?" he said, turning to get a better view of Taketo.

"You've seen him then?" Taketo said, relieved. "Was it tonight?" _Yes!_ he thought. _Salsa might still be here somewhere._

"Uh, yeah, I . . . yes," the man said, sagging against the doorframe. "Tonight. Yes. That dog was . . . I saw it in the alley out back. Behind the shop."

"Great, thank you!" Taketo said. "Sorry to have bothered you, I'll just find the --"

"The access is down the block," the man said. "You could get there faster through the store."

"But I don't want to bother you," Taketo said, "I'll just --"

"It's no bother," the man said quickly. "I have to check the place out anyway. You could just go out the back door." He added, "You helped me find my key, so, so . . ."

"Oh, well," Taketo said, "if it's really no bother, thank you very much."

"No trouble," the man muttered to himself, using his handkerchief to wipe his face. "I can't believe this."

"Sorry?" Taketo said.

"Nothing, nothing," the man assured him. "It's in the back, so just go around there and through that door. I'll be right with you. The light switch's on the left." The man still hadn't turned on more lights than one in the entryway, and the store was rather dark; but Taketo could make out the empty glass cases that had been the main counter and displays.

As it turned out, the light switch wasn't on the left side of the door.

Because this wasn't the first time someone had clouted Taketo on the head from behind, his last, fleeting thought, _Salsa's going to be angry with me again,_ was more resigned than surprised.

* * *

**14.**

"But what am I supposed to do right _now?_"

"Uh?" Taketo had been awake for a several minutes, but he still wasn't clear on where he was. He had figured out that his head hurt. That the floor under his cheek was cold. That his wrists and ankles were apparently tied up. That someone was in same the room with him, pacing back and forth, back and forth.

"He's waking up. Oh, _wonderful._ Damn it." A spate of coughing. "Should I try hitting him again?"

The ongoing conversation hadn't been very enlightening. But Taketo had also figured out that his participation wasn't desired.

"Come on, come on . . . voice mail? _Again?_"

Taketo decided he'd try for a view. Light wasn't a very comfortable sensation at all, but he could stand it enough to manage a squint. It was the same man who'd let him into the shop, walking back and forth in front of him, moping his mouth and face and clutching a cell phone.

"Um, mister?" he tried. "Should I know you?"

"Now he's talking, too? Should I gag him or what?" the man wheezed. "I'll try him again."

Taketo sighed. Instead, he looked around to see where he was. It was an empty, rectangular room with gray metal walls and ceiling, and a shiny concrete floor. There were slots on the walls, and racks of some sort on the ceiling, along with a set of yellowish plastic light panels. The slots, he decided might be for sliding in shelves. Across from him was an open doorway; the door, which opened outward, looked rather thick. _Like inside a giant refrigerator,_ he thought. He concluded that he might be somewhere in the back of the same shop.

"Answer your damn phone," the man muttered, to himself. "How many messages . . . have I left now? Weren't you supposed to call me . . . right back? So why haven't you?"

Taketo wondered who "you" was. He wondered what was wrong with this guy. He wondered why he didn't seem to care that Taketo could see him clearly.

Then he noticed the large carving knife laying on the floor near the door.

_So. Ropes plus knife 'about this long' . . . equals empty apartment across town?_ he thought nervously. This didn't strike him as a healthy situation to be in. _Salsa?_ he thought, putting in all his effort, _I mean it. If you really are somewhere around here, some time soon would be good._

"I give up," the man said, slapping the phone closed and dropping it into his jacket pocket. "I'm just going to go ahead and get started."

_Or right now would be better!_ Taketo thought, watching wide-eyed as the man leaned over and picked up the knife.

Now he was looking over Taketo with an assessing frown. "No, this doesn't work for me," he said, finally.

"Me neither," Taketo agreed, struggling to sit up. "Do I get a vote?"

"I guess I'll knock him out again first. Noisy kid," he said, turning away -- just as the black and tan cannonball struck him squarely in the back, ramming him headfirst into the wall over Taketo.

"Salsa!" Taketo yelled, muffled under the sudden blanket of limp body. "That was great!"

"You're right, I _am_ great," Salsa agreed, seizing the man's jacket in his teeth and him dragging off to the side. "But _you_ are a complete idiot! Taketo, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I was looking for you," Taketo said panting, finally working himself into a sitting position.

"I've been smelling you. But I've been watching this place, so how the hell could you have gotten in here without me --?" Salsa began. "Never mind. Figure it out later. Move out so I can get those ropes off."

"Is this an empty butcher's shop?" Taketo said, scooting forward.

"Yeah, it's --" Salsa broke off, staring at him.

"What?" Taketo said, straining at the ropes. What was Salsa looking at? Taketo knew he was red and sweaty and messy and out of breath, but that was understandable, wasn't it?

Salsa sat backward with an awkward thump, in his human form. "Oh shit," he muttered.

"Um, Salsa? What wrong?" Taketo said, licking his lips nervously.

"Stop doing that!" Salsa snapped at him. He grabbed Taketo's shoulder and hauled him roughly forward, reaching for the ropes.

"Doing what?" Taketo said. "I was just sitting here minding my own business and being tied up, and -- Salsa! Hey, that guy's getting up again!"

"Damn it," Salsa said, dropping Taketo's wrists and turning around -- just as Taketo's assailant collapsed face-first on the floor, in a spray of blood.

"Hunh?" Taketo stared. The man's back was a shredded mess. "Salsa, something's --!"

A clear chime rang out, and Salsa slammed down into the floor as well. Taketo winced, shaking his head as the chiming sounds continued, reverberating painfully inside his head. "What . . . is that?" he groaned.

"That," said Shido Katsuragi, stepping through the doorway, "would be _hajuuon._" He held up the tiny silver bell he was ringing, adding, "New and improved."

"Shido," Salsa snarled, desperately trying to lift himself from the floor. "Someone else who knew I'd be in the park," Salsa said. "That woman was sent by you."

"Who else?" Shido replied. "What, aren't you pleased to see me again?"

* * *

**15.**

"It's been a number of years since we last met in that park, hasn't it?" Shido said. "Surely you knew I'd be back for you. For both of you." He smiled at Taketo, as he continued to ring the small bell.

Taketo scowled back, furious. Shido's younger half-brother, Mitsuki Katsuragi, had been Salsa's first master -- and it had been Shido's attempt to separate Salsa from Mitsuki permanently that had resulted in his death. Shido was not only determined to kill Salsa, but he knew enough about what Salsa was to have come close the last time -- and Taketo had nearly died as well.

"Actually, I never left -- but you never once sensed I was here, did you?" Shido continued. "I took great care never to be close enough or involved enough that you could. I've had years to consider where I went wrong last time, to work out the obvious flaws with the destructive weight sound technique. As you've noticed firsthand, my hajuuon is much more powerful now, and this enclosed space accentuates it."

Taketo strained at the ropes, trying to ignore the growing nausea and dizziness. He remembered that Shido's technique was designed specifically for dog ears, to use a sound range that made them feel too heavy too move. Although Salsa had managed to drag himself a few lengths away from Taketo, he already looked exhausted.

To Taketo, Shido commented, "Of course, it's slightly more damaging now to humans who aren't shielded, but you won't be suffering from it long."

"You're a true humanitarian," Salsa said acidly.

"In fact, I _am,_" Shido said, irritably. "I'm a doctor. I _save_ people. I haven't killed anyone. All of those people killed each other." His lip curled. "I've been living openly in this city for nearly three years, yet you never discovered me. I had a clinic on the north side, which brought me into contact with all of them at some point. Ordinary citizens of different ages, different occupations, with one thing in common. Who'd expect that each of them harbored a willingness to kill someone else for a sufficient reward? Each accepted a downpayment, the name of a target, and basic instructions on how not to leave evidence.

"Naturally they couldn't have known that their own name would be the next one on the list," he said. "A tidy way of ensuring none would be tempted to discuss the matter again in the future. Beyond that I left the methods up to them. The result was sufficient variety to confuse anyone investigating."

"No, you gave them one other instruction," Salsa said.

"Exactly," Shido said. "So when did you finally notice? Really, the number of killings was more _your_ fault than anyone else's. I made certain each left you an obvious note -- so if only you'd solved the problem in time, there would have been fewer deaths." He mused, "Seeing the so-called great detective Wild Half chasing his own tail like a fool made the time and expense worthwhile."

"You really are nuts," Taketo said, appalled. "You were paying people to kill each other, and you don't think _you're_ responsible?"

"Be quiet," Shido snapped. "You obviously have no idea what you're talking about."

"Isn't that guy right there in the middle of the floor dead?" Taketo said, incredulous.

"Shido would say he didn't lay a hand on him," Salsa said. "So where's the wild-half poultry who's too cowardly to show his face?"

The air over Shido's right shoulder shimmered briefly, a large, white bird appearing in the same space, gripping the jacket with curving claws that were, Taketo noticed, wet and red. "Ah. Am I supposed to scream that you've besmirched my honor and attack now?" Crow said, shaking out his wing feathers. "Perhaps you should read a better grade of manga."

"Crow," Taketo said, sagging.

"What are you doing?" Shido said, annoyed.

"I see no point in hiding my presence any more," Crow said, staring down at them narrowly. "You know, I had no personal stake in any of this until you two gave me one."

"Please forgive us Crow kami-sama," Salsa said. "We didn't feel like dying for your amusement."

"Hmm, well, let me consider it," Crow said. "Request denied."

"Stupid tengu's been here all along, I think," Salsa said, disgusted. "Shido can't read minds. He can't influence people's thoughts. There's no way he could have safely known who'd be open to his offers without a wild-half in the background who could 'see' it. Crow could have told him everything he didn't already know about us. He could have hidden Taketo's presence out on the street from me." Salsa added, acidly, "So how are you enjoying life with your new master, Crow?"

Crow quivered with fury. "Do _not_ confuse me with the likes of you. You really are the mutated monsters he says you are. My power is my own. Shido is my _associate_ \-- our aims happen to coincide."

"But you've taken care of your _killing,_ so you're no longer useful," Salsa said pleasantly, "Mr. Next Target on the List."

Crow had no immediate response to that stray shot. _Go Salsa,_ Taketo thought to himself.

"Shut up," Shido snapped. "Crow only hastened the inevitable for our Mouesa-san here," he said, nudging the body with his toe. "He should have taken care to examine the script for his inhaler. As a physician, I cannot be held responsible for patients who won't pay proper attention to their own health care."

"You . . . poisoned him with his medicine?" Taketo said.

"Hardly the first time for Shido," Salsa said, now furious.

Shido stared down at him. "Meaning what, exactly?"

Taketo was stunned. _Salsa?,_ he thought -- but he still felt no response. Taketo knew, from Salsa himself, that Shido had mistakenly poisoned his half-brother Mitsuki, Salsa's original owner; Mitsuki had swallowed a pill that Shido had intended for Salsa. But Salsa also had told Taketo that Mitsuki, as he was dying, had made Salsa swear to never reveal the truth to Shido. Now Salsa seemed angry enough to finally break his promise to Mitsuki, one of the most precious people of his life.

"Meaning," Salsa said in a strained voice, "that Mitsuki may have been a saint after all. What worth he saw in you I will never understand."

"Crow," Shido said, teeth gritted, "if you would do the honors."

"A pleasure." A single flap of wings and Crow had lifted from Shido's shoulder and alighted on the floor, transforming immediately into his semi-human form: a tall, thin, pale man in leather and feathers, hair smoothly cropped at chin-length -- with two full sets of huge, curving talons. He clattered across the hard floor to where Salsa was still pinned painfully down by Shido's _hajuuon._ "My my. Shake, dog," he said to Salsa, straddling his back and pulling both of Salsa's wrists behind him. He bent Salsa's arms up to the point near breaking, then held them firmly in place with this back claws. Salsa clenched his teeth and grunted, pressing his forehead to the floor.

"Salsa?" Taketo could see how much it hurt.

"There we go," Crow said. "No, don't look down." He grabbed Salsa's chin and forcing his head back up: "Beg."

"Bastard," Salsa ground out. "I'm going to --"

"-- Be a good dog, right?"

Shido palmed the bell and dropped it into his pocket; the moment Shido quit ringing the bell, Taketo felt the paralyzing fog lift from his mind -- and Salsa began to struggle madly, trying without success to throw Crow off. Crow's expression set into a moue of disappointment, "Not much to do here, Shido. He's a lot weaker than before."

"Fine with me." Shido knelt down and slapped Salsa, hard, across the face.

"Salsa!" Taketo shouted.

"You will never," Shido said, "foul my Mitsuki's name with that mouth of yours again. I'm going to make sure of it."

Salsa glared at him, and licked the cut on his lip. He said, simply, "Marking."

Crow laughed again, and Salsa and Taketo both stared as Shido lifted his hand and wagged his fingers.

"What? You're not _surprised_ that you couldn't mark my hand, are you?" Shido said. "The gloves are synthetics, you stupid mongrel." As Salsa scowled, Shido said easily, "Surely you've already noticed by now. Why did you think I chose this man? He owned this shop -- he wanted the money he'd receive from killing that other idiot, and from killing _him,_" he gestured at Taketo, "to open it again."

"I, of course, wanted it for an entirely different purpose: The walls, ceiling, and fixtures of this cold storage room are a metal alloy, the floor and walls are coated with a layer of synthetic polymer for easier cleaning. None of them found in nature, so none of them capable of channeling your energy." He slapped Salsa again. "Did you seriously believe I'd forget what you did to my hands, last time? You fool, I've had years to plan this!"

Taketo bit his lip, determined not to draw attention. Salsa had started to claw off the ropes cutting into Taketo's wrists when Shido and Crow had interrupted them. Salsa's marking hadn't been directed at Shido at all -- the rope around Taketo's wrists had writhed loose, and slid off. So Taketo had immediately taken a long, silent breath and begun to pick at the knot, thinking furiously. If he could undo his ankles as well without anyone noticing -- then what? He could knock Crow off Salsa or at least loosen his hold, but wouldn't that give Shido enough time to resume his hajuuon? But if he went for Shido directly, what could Crow do about it that wouldn't require breaking his hold on Salsa? Shido couldn't possibly be tougher than Taketo's Obaa-chan, could he?

"Asshole, hey!" Salsa was swearing, just as the white pants leg came into Taketo's field of vision. Taketo's stomach bottomed out.

"With my eyes, did you really think _I_ wasn't going to notice?" Crow said, disgusted.

"If you'd only been patient a little longer," Shido said, "I had every intention of cutting you loose. As it is, you're going to find this uncomfortable." Taketo looked up, just as Shido blew a handful of powder into his face.

"Taketo, don't breathe that in!" Salsa shouted.

"It won't matter," Shido said, stepping aside easily as Taketo coughed and kicked out at him. "It's a contact poison."

Taketo suddenly felt dizzy and off-balance again; in spite of his efforts to hold himself upright, he slid over onto his side, his entire body growing numb.

"What the hell did you do to him?" Salsa snarled. "Shido, Taketo has nothing to do with this -- why don't you just let him go?"

"My own formulation -- fast acting, short duration. Think of it as a powdered form of the _hajuuon,_" Shido told him distantly. "No permanent effects that I know of. He should feel fine by the time we've left." He sorted out a small bundle of handkerchief from his pocket. "He stays because he has everything to do with this -- he's your master, after all."

"No, he's not," Salsa snapped. "I was leaving Taketo as soon as I'd finished this case. He's more of a hindrance than a help, anyway."

Taketo went slack with shock. Even Shido and Crow looked surprised, Taketo thought. _What does Crow see? Why's he nodding at Shido? Does that mean Salsa . . . he's telling the truth?_ Taketo's chest ached. _Salsa?_

"As I'd expect from a dog like you," Shido said, recovering. "So it's just as well that I caught you now." He dropped to one knee beside Salsa and shook the handkerchief free, holding up the contents for inspection. It was a small, dark opalescent sphere, that emitted a soft, reddish glow. "Do you know what this is?"

Taketo and Salsa both stared at it. Taketo had seen stones like it before: He'd even seen his own moonlight stone when a wild-half named Akamichi had ripped it out of his body, years ago. It was the crystalline repository of a wild-half's owner's feelings, and the source of a wild-half's power. But Taketo's had been _white._

"That old woman outside of town with the cats," Salsa said flatly. "I doubt she was one of your patients."

Taketo heard Shido's surprised intake of breath. "Well," he said, "perhaps you have some deductive skills after all. You figured that out."

"That all the other killings were to divert attention from that one?" Salsa said, lowly. "Yeah. I figured it. The others were rather utilitarian. Killing the woman's pets too made it a pretty extreme outlier."

"Crow had identified the target's location, but wasn't certain which one it was -- the little monster was hiding its nature too well," Shido said, annoyed. "We had to flush out, paralyze, and kill every creature we could find on the premises. Better safe than sorry. It probably had powers of some sort and might have been waiting for an opportunity to use them. We couldn't take any chances."

Taketo felt sick to his stomach.

"I think," Salsa said grimly, "your definition of monster is a little too narrow."

Shido slapped his palm to the floor by Salsa's face in full fury: "If you know what this is," he said, "then you were _lying_ before. To me. To _Mitsuki!_ You knew what would happen after this had formed. You _knew._"

"I didn't," Salsa said, looking away. "I've had a few years to figure things out, too."

"_He_ has one, doesn't he?" Shido said, gesturing at Taketo. "How long would it have been? Before his became full? Before you killed him and ate _him?_"

Taketo shut his eyes. He remembered: It hadn't taken long at all. _Shido doesn't know that?_ he wondered. But he and Salsa had been fortunate enough to have met Ginsei first, who'd warned them of what they could expect. They'd forced the werewolf inside Salsa out into the open prematurely; they'd managed to separate it from Salsa and kill it, before it could kill Taketo.

But Salsa said nothing.

"Housecats are independent little freeloaders," Crow commented. "I rather think that must be why they hadn't completed their bond. But this stone is definitely full, so it would have only been a matter of time. It ought to be more than sufficient, don't you think?"

_Sufficient for what?_ Taketo thought in a panic, as Crow began to pry Salsa's jaws open with his free hand: "Open wide and say 'Ahh!', there's a good dog," he said. _They're not going to . . . ?_ But they were -- Shido was stuffing the stone into Salsa's mouth, while as Salsa was struggling under Crow's grip, frantically trying to spit it out again.

"No!" Taketo tried to move, only succeeding in propping himself up on one wobbling arm.

Shido held Salsa's nose, grunting, "Damn it . . . almost in . . . there it goes!"

He could hear Salsa's howl, as Taketo convulsed. At that instant, inside Taketo's own body, something had gone blank, cold, empty. _Salsa . . . ?_ But every trace of Salsa's feelings had disappeared. Taketo was, for the first time in so very long, isolated. His chest began to ache again -- in a different place entirely now.

"Shido," Crow was saying. "That boy. Why did he --?"

"No, I don't know either." Taketo was aware, in a distant way, that Shido was prodding him, feeling his wrist. Now Shido was brushing something damp away and lifting his eyelid, but at that moment, Taketo couldn't see anything past the ache inside him. "He seems fine otherwise. We can leave them." Shido was cutting loose the ropes around his ankles.

"Now that we've dealt once and for all with your idée fixe," Crow was saying impatiently, "perhaps we can move on my plans?"

"Go ahead," Shido said. "I'll be with you shortly." Taketo heard a flapping of wings.

"Shido," Salsa said. His voice sounded . . . strange, Taketo thought. "His so-called plans. Do you realize what he's intending to do with that junk you've been cooking up to increase his power? He's not satisfied with lording it over that mountain of his."

Taketo cracked his eyes open now. Shido had paused in the doorway, one palm resting on the door. In his other hand were the remnants of the ropes from Taketo's wrists and ankles. "I don't care," he said.

"How can you not care!"

"Mitsuki was all I ever cared about," Shido said. "That was what you took away from me." He looked at Salsa, and continued dully. "Now that I've finished with this, nothing else matters to me. Crow included."

"Shido, damn it!"

"I have not been happy -- not for a single day, not for a single moment -- since Mitsuki died," Shido said. "How could I be? You said that Mitsuki was the most important to you. But he's dead. And here you are. Alive and _happy,_ with someone else entirely."

"It's not like that," Salsa said heavily.

Shido's palm, flat against the door, clenched. "You claimed that you never would have hurt Mitsuki," he said. "So there he is -- your new master. Prove it. I want to see it." Bitterly, he added, "But I know the headline I'm going to read: 'The monster in their midst: beloved pet dog kills own master and man who tried to intervene'. So it's over now."

Shido walked out the door, and quietly shut it behind him. Taketo heard the latch slam into place, followed by a sound of something hammering. Some kind of wedge? he wondered. He studied the body on the floor for a few moments. _Very dead,_ he decided. _Was that guy really going to kill me?_

And, finally, he tilted his head enough to see Salsa. He'd crawled into the opposite corner, and was huddled there with his back to the room. With his back to Taketo. _He's a dog again,_ Taketo confirmed sadly. But something about Salsa's shape stuck him as subtly wrong.

Taketo was just puzzling over this difference when the room went black.

"Cut the power," Salsa muttered. "Thanks for that at least, bastard."

* * *

**16.**

_Salsa . . . why?_ Taketo thought in despair. But there was no answer -- the bond between them was completely dead. It's just a misunderstanding, he decided. Just because he couldn't tell what Salsa was feeling now didn't mean . . . But hadn't that been true for a while? he realized, shaken. Salsa hadn't been giving him any real access to his feelings for a long time. _He's been keeping me at a distance so long that . . . I've only been guessing how he feels, haven't I?_

So Taketo waited silently, as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He could now see that there was a dim glow coming from several long, narrow ventilation grills near the ceiling. Maybe it was streetlight or moonlight -- he had no idea. He waited.

"Taketo," Salsa said, at last. "Can you move yet?"

Taketo shifted his arm. "It's wearing off," he confirmed listlessly. "Probably won't take much longer."

"Good," Salsa said. "You've got to get out of here. Once you're mobile again, stay as far from me as you can get, and make as much noise as you can manage. Yell, scream, whatever it takes. Those refrigeration ducts apparently aren't hooked up, so the sound might carry though those vents. Someone outside might --"

"What about you?" Taketo said.

"-- hear you," Salsa continued, ignoring him. "Someone can come and get you in time."

"Salsa, what's wrong?" Taketo said. He was, at last, beginning to feel something other than numb -- he was angry. "Tell me what's going on!"

"I know what he had in mind, if that's what you mean," Salsa said wryly. "He's trying to force out my werewolf."

"But we killed it!" Taketo said. "There's nothing to force out."

"Yeah. He didn't know that." After a moment, Salsa said again, "You've got to get out of here."

"Something was wrong with that stone," Taketo said. "What was it?"

"Dunno," Salsa said. "It wasn't as hard as yours. Felt softer. Smelled and tasted bad, like dirt. It's . . . dissolved, I think. Spread out."

"Inside you," Taketo said.

"Yeah."

When Salsa didn't say anything else, Taketo prompted him. "And?"

"You've got to get out of here," Salsa repeated. "Don't waste time talking to me. Get yourself moving."

Taketo thought about that view he'd had of Salsa's back. "What's it doing?" he demanded.

"Taketo . . ."

"No, you're going to tell me," he said, insistent. "You're changing, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Salsa said, voice now sounding raspy, "it's forcing a change."

"Into /what?/" Taketo said.

"Dunno."

"Salsa," Taketo prompted him impatiently.

"I mean it. I'm not Ginsei, I don't know about this stuff. Hell, I didn't even think a stone could last that long outside a host. All I know is that stones are made of feelings, and these aren't . . ." He paused, then said, carefully, "Taketo, these aren't the good kind. Don't come near me, and don't touch me. Got that?"

"Okay, but --"

"No buts," Salsa said. "I can hold this off for a while, or at least slow it down. That'll buy you time."

Taketo groaned, pushing himself up to a sitting position. He unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt; the moon mark on his chest had always had a faint glimmering sheen in the dark, but now he could see nothing. _But it's still here,_ he thought, running a finger over his skin. _Something's still here, even if I can't see it._

"But Salsa," he said, "we ought to be able to get it out of you. If you'd just --"

"Forget it," Salsa said curtly. "I've got a quicker way to finish this if I have to."

Taketo blinked. He knew what Salsa meant -- Ginsei had told them that his brother Kuro had ripped out his own heart to stop a transformation gone wrong. "No," Taketo said. "No way. You are not going to do that! There's no need to do that! You get power from my feelings," Taketo said, clutching at the mark on his chest. "From this stone. No, it's my feelings and your feelings -- _together._ Our feelings for each other. That bond is the basis of a moonlight stone. We just need to --"

"I'm not bonding with you again," Salsa cut him off.

"Not --?" Taketo sat back, stunned. "What you told Shido, that wasn't the truth."

"Taketo, I told you before," Salsa said, "you don't _think._ If you did, you'd already know the reason your mark has been feeling that way."

"No, I want you to explain this to me." Taketo yelled, forcing himself to his feet against the wall. "Salsa, I love you -- you're my dog!"

"You always say that so easily," Salsa muttered.

"Well, why wouldn't I?" Taketo said. "I mean it."

"Because I didn't want to be your dog any longer. That's why your mark felt that way," Salsa said. "Taking out the stone would have messed you up like the last time. So instead I just . . ."

"What . . . are you saying?" Taketo said. "Salsa, _why?_"

"That's why it's . . . dead now. This is all my fault," Salsa said, "I'm sorry."

"Fine. If you're sorry, then don't do this -- it's not dead," Taketo said. "It's still here. The mark's still here."

"But I don't feel anything," Salsa snapped at him. "Nothing. Do you get it now?"

This can't be happening, he thought. Taketo slumped, sliding back down against the wall. Salsa didn't really mean it -- he couldn't mean it. It wasn't possible. Taketo folded his arms over his knees, and wiped his nose against his sleeve. Salsa still cared about him, he thought. So what they really had was a communication problem, and Salsa . . . wasn't communicating.

Or maybe he had been all along. _So maybe, like he said, I haven't been thinking. Now I'm going to._ As he listened to Salsa's breathing in the corner becoming harsher, deeper, Taketo thought about himself, and about Salsa, and about the two of them together.

He and Salsa had never had the same kind of problems as the other wild-half pairs they'd known. Taketo had never considered it before: _Why haven't we?_ For one thing, Salsa was the one who'd chosen Taketo -- first he'd stolen Taketo's lunch, then he'd taken over his bed, then he'd helped himself to the rest of his life. Taketo had known from the start that Salsa wasn't an ordinary dog; he'd spoken to Taketo right away, and Taketo had seen his human form not long after.

Salsa hadn't made Taketo wait. He hadn't hidden what he was, not like Ginsei, Tanaka, or Mirei. So their relationship had been different all along. _Wasn't that a good thing?_ But then again, Salsa had tried to eat Taketo once. No one else had done that, aside from Akamichi . . .

But a wild-half like Wolf or Crow didn't have a were-side; only the domesticated ones did. Was that because they had to suppress a lot of natural urges to be a pet? That had to make a difference, Taketo thought. Look at Tanaka: he'd been raised as the Tanakas' grandson -- he'd never be able to adjust to being a pet, no matter how much Salsa nagged him to act more like a dog. _And why does Salsa keep going on about that, anyway?_ Taketo frowned. _It's not like Tanaka-kun's unhappy. What am I missing here?_

Taketo wondered suddenly if Yamanaka had a stone yet. He didn't think he'd survive long if he tried to find out, but he thought he knew the answer. He'd even bet it was even as full as his own. So why hadn't Tanaka changed and attacked her? Taketo blinked. _But Yamanaka-san's not Tanaka-kun's owner, is she? She's his . . . girlfriend._ Did that make a difference, too? As soon as the question occurred to him, the answer was obvious. Different type of relationship entirely. Taketo reddened.

_Oh. Right._

For that matter, Taketo wondered, had Salsa even wanted to be a pet? He was remembering now that, in the beginning, Salsa had insisted on his independence. When had that changed? Hadn't Salsa had simply given in and let Taketo have what _he'd_ wanted? Now that Taketo was older . . . had what he wanted changed, too? If it had, even if Taketo hadn't realized it yet himself, Salsa would have picked up on it immediately. So were they like Mirei and Miya, with Salsa convinced that he was doing what was best for Taketo? _Stupid Salsa,_ it wasn't as though what Taketo wanted had ever been different from . . . what Salsa wanted . . .

_Oh. Right._

Taketo really hoped an urge to wear cute, matching pajamas was just Karasuma's thing, and not some sort of terrifying side effect.

"'Cause I'm not wearing those, even for you," Taketo stated absently. "I guess I've been kind of dumb."

"Yeah, I know," Salsa snapped. "So Taketo, listen to me, damn it. You have to --"

"No, not about that -- just be quiet," Taketo cut him off. To himself, he muttered, "Okay, so that stone Shido had . . . " Taketo knew from firsthand experience how overprotective and territorial a wild-half could be. Why would there have been _other_ cats in that woman's house? Unless . . .

If that wild-half cat hadn't been a pet, then what was it? Ginsei was the only wild-half he'd met who remembered his parents; his mother had been an ordinary dog, and Ginsei and Kuro had been the only wild-half puppies in their litter. But a wild-half animal had two forms, didn't it? So what was to stop them from, from . . . Maybe Shido was wrong -- maybe _none_ of them had been ordinary cats. The stones were nothing but feelings solidified, and the stone they'd forced Salsa to eat was the feelings of someone who'd died. It's like a ghost, Taketo decided, with a really serious axe to grind, and it'll take out anyone in swinging distance.

But Taketo already knew how to exorcise it. Maybe neither of them had been ready to change what they had up to now. But in the end what they wanted was the same.

"I don't want to be your master anymore," Taketo said.

"You already aren't," Salsa said curtly.

"But that doesn't mean I'm leaving you," Taketo continued. "You said you'd protect only me, fight only for me. You said that would never change. Has it?"

"Taketo --"

"I'm not leaving," Taketo repeated. "I didn't know Mitsuki, but I know how he felt. What Shido doesn't get -- what you don't seem to get -- is that even if you guys had known about the werewolf, he wouldn't have abandoned you. He'd have stuck it out and taken his chances, just like I did. Just like I'm going to."

"What you're going to do is get out of here," Salsa said, "or I'm going to end this now."

"If you do that," Taketo said, "I'll come over there to stop you."

"Taketo, you've got to stay away from me," Salsa said. "I told you --"

"If you don't want to hurt me, then don't hurt yourself," Taketo said bluntly. "Our bond is the source of your power, right? If it comes back, you'll be able to control your own change again, you'll be able to get rid of that. I remember how the mark appeared the first time -- I just didn't know what it meant then. I do now. All we have to do is feel all the same things for each other, strongly enough, at the same time." He took a deep breath, and asked, "So I'm going to reconnect our feelings. One way or another. You going to cooperate?"

"Taketo, I don't want you to," Salsa said, growling. "And you can't force me to feel something I don't want to feel."

"Wanna bet?" Taketo said. "Listen to this: After I came back from the pet shop this afternoon, Wolf had me pinned to the floor, and he was kissing me. This cut on my tongue is from his fangs. He was smelling me, Salsa. He licked me. He forced my legs apart. You could probably still smell Wolf on me when you got here. And you can smell that I'm not lying, can't you?"

The black lump in the corner shuddered; Taketo heard a light scrabble of claws on metal. He could tell: once Salsa got too distracted, he'd lose any control over this change. So Taketo had to hurry.

"Salsa, did hearing that piss you off?" he asked. When Salsa didn't answer, he forged on: "Wolf wasn't even awake -- he called me _Takahashi._ So I've realized something. Wolf is a true werewolf, he didn't eat his master and become that way, he was _born_ that way. He's never had to suppress his own instincts, so he doesn't need someone else's feelings to give him power, not like a domestic wild-half does." Taketo another took a deep breath. "So he's never looked at Takahashi as master. Takahashi's never looked at him as a pet."

"Taketo, stop it." Salsa's voice was hoarse. "You don't know what you're --"

"No," Taketo cut him off. "What did you really want to do to me this morning, Salsa? Tell me."

"I'm not going to listen to this," Salsa said.

"That's fine. Even if you stop listening," Taketo said, "you can't stop breathing." Taketo closed his eyes and summon back to mind his morning. This should be more than enough to generate some nice smells, he thought grimly.

"This morning, you were watching me unbutton my shirt for you," Taketo said. "I was showing you my mark, do you remember that? You wanted to smell it." He could almost feel the shock of Salsa's cold, wet nose again. "You were smelling my mark, and then . . . you licked it." Taketo tried to call back to mind the resonance he'd felt in his body -- but nothing was happening yet. _He's trying to fight? I'll try harder._

"You were licking me, Salsa," Taketo said. "Your tongue is really long and flat, and wet. I could feel it inside the stone every time you lapped my mark. Then you were licking my throat and face, and pushing your tongue into my ear. And then you changed, and you were tracing the mark with your fingers, then with your tongue, and . . . uhh, stroking my stomach." Taketo swallowed.

"You were stroking my stomach with the palm of your hand, and your thigh was up against mine . . . I could feel how hard you were, Salsa," Taketo admitted. "Did you feel how hard I'd gotten for you?"

The mound of fur in the corner that was Salsa had gone still and silent. Taketo rubbed his chest: He'd just felt a solid twinge. The stone was reacting to _something._ He didn't think it was just him.

"And you started to trace the waistband of my jeans with your fingers, just like this." Taketo lowered his hand to do the same. "What did you want to do after that, Salsa? Were you going to unbutton my jeans? Like this?" Taketo slipped the button free and slowly pulled down the zipper so that the sound was clear in the quiet room. "You can hear this, can't you, Salsa? I'm opening them up for you now.

"Isn't this what you wanted to do? You wanted to reach down here like this," Taketo paused to lick his hand, then he slid it under the waistband of his underwear, "and you wanted to wrap your hand around me like this? Salsa, your hands are so big -- uhn, I can imagine how that would feel."

Suddenly, even as Taketo felt a sharp flare of pain in his chest, Salsa came roaring back to life, almost deafening him in the enclosed space: "Damn it, Taketo, if you've got this much breath to waste, use it to yell for help! Someone might hear you and come!"

Nice try, but not going to work/, Taketo thought. /You're not distracting me at all. Can you hear this yet, Salsa?

"You don't know," Salsa said, voice ragged, "that this would even work."

"We both leave together or only you leave. I'm fine with that."

"I'm /not/."

"Too bad." Taketo licked his hand again, and went back to work. "You can smell this, can't you Salsa? I'm getting harder right now. It's all from thinking about you," he said. "It's just from thinking about you touching me, stroking me with your hand. But I bet you wanted to use your mouth/, didn't you? You wanted to lick me here, you wanted to suck me. You wanted to /smell me. You could . . . could," Taketo gasped, "you could press your nose here and smell me. Isn't that what you want to do?"

"Taketo," Salsa's breathing was now loud and rasping. "I can't . . . I don't want this."

The stone in Taketo's chest was arguing otherwise; he was starting to hear disjointed sounds in his mind. And it really hurts, Taketo thought wonderingly; his mark had never hurt in precisely this way before. It had become a battle between competing aches. "Salsa, c'mon," he groaned, starting to work his jeans down his hips, "I,I'm dripping now. Can't you smell this? Don't you want to lick it?"

Their connection flared into searing life again with a force that left Taketo shaking. He slid down to his knees. "Salsa," he said, "look . . . the mark's starting to glow again . . . I'm touching it right now with my fingers. But I want you to touch it. I want you to lick it again." He was sensing a flood of hot chaotic feelings, and he was having trouble separating his own. Taketo bit his lip hard. "Salsa, I, I can feel what you want now, you know." He dropped heavily onto his hands. "Salsa . . . ngh, you can smell what I'm feeling. You can feel how ready I am. You /know/."

Taketo's chest felt like it was tearing apart from the inside. "Salsa, that's . . . want to do that," his own thoughts were being swamped under feelings and impulses that weren't making sense to him. "Just like that, unnn, brush your fur," he muttered raggedly, "and lift your tail and smell you and lick you, and take you in my mouth and lick you and suck you, Salsa, I . . . "

Salsa lurched out of the corner, and Taketo squeezed his eyes shut so that he couldn't see what was dragging itself across the floor to him, making those weird, guttural noises, with claws that scraped a little too long over the floor. No . . . it's Salsa, he thought faintly, it is. He could feel him, and he could feel how much Salsa wanted him. Somewhere inside him the stone was white and hot and filled with Salsa.

And what was left of Taketo didn't recognize his own voice anymore. "Salsa," he whined, "hurry, come on, I'm ready for you, hurry . . ." The cold shock of Salsa's nose as his muzzle thrust itself under Taketo's belly, sniffing him, made him aware of a small voice in the back of his mind, which might have been the last shreds of his sanity, shrieking that this was too fast, the stone had never felt this way, wasn't supposed to feel this way, was dangerous, had to stop -- but Taketo was completely synched with Salsa's feelings now, and Salsa's feelings were dominating his own, and that was how it was supposed to be, and he couldn't do anything except writhe as Salsa nuzzled and sniffed him thoroughly. Salsa was growling steadily, a low thunder that vibrated everywhere his muzzle touched.

Then Salsa's tongue shot out to lick him, just as Taketo needed him to. "Unh, Sa . . . Salsa!" he gasped, shuddering, as Salsa's long, moist tongue explored him. Taketo could feel everything Salsa wanted now; Salsa nudged him with his muzzle, so Taketo raised his hips and groveled down on his forearms so that his back was arched, just as he knew Salsa wanted. "Please," he begged, "I'm ready, mate with me, Salsa, c'mon . . ." Salsa was behind him, and Taketo was panting, muttering brokenly, "I'm ready, I want it, lick me, put your tongue in, lick me back there, please hurry please lick me, please Salsa I need it, put it in, Salsa, please put it in, hurry . . ."

Salsa mounted him, his rough pads on half-hands scrapping over Taketo's skin, grappling at his hips. Then the claws sank in, and Salsa jerked him back suddenly -- and it /hurt/. "Aah," Taketo shouted, "Salsa!" then again and again, as Salsa began to push and thrust, trying to get deeper inside him.

The stone inside Taketo cracked, with a cold, bright sound.

In that lucid moment, Taketo knew he'd made a mistake. He knew he was being dragged over the cold floor of a storage room, with something large, heavy, furred bearing down on him, shuddering.

"Take . . . to."

"Salsa, no, wait! This wasn't supposed to --!"

Their stone shattered inside him, a burst of white. A black sensation of earth crumbling away.

* * *

**17.**

Outside the garden, Salsa was barking.

Taketo swung his legs off the verandah, and he watched the boy digging holes in the garden with a trowel. "He sure likes to dig, doesn't he?" he said, for lack of anything better to say.

"He's looking for the other side of the world," the young woman sitting next to him said.

"Salsa's annoying like this," Taketo said, ashamed. "He never listens."

She smiled. After a while, Taketo asked her, "Does he ever find it?"

"Of course." She seemed surprised by the question. "Look." She held out her hand, palm upward, then tipped it -- light flowed out, falling to the earth in shards then vanishing. "Do you understand about water?" she asked him. "It's also steam. It's also ice. But it's still water."

"Did we have that in school?" Taketo said, uncertain.

"I wanted him to go to school," she said wistfully. They watched the boy start a new hole. "He was very bright. I thought he would like it."

Taketo said, "He's old enough to go now, isn't he?"

"No," she said, "he'll never be old enough." The boy had set down his trowel and stared at them with an unblinking gaze that struck Taketo as familiar somehow.

The woman touched Taketo's cheek. "We're very sorry," she said simply.

"That stupid Salsa won't stop barking, will he?"

"Maybe later," she told him. The boy went back to digging holes.

_Why wouldn't he stop barking?_ Taketo wondered. _Stupid dog._

* * *

**18.**

Salsa was still barking, but at least he'd moved farther away. Somewhere closer, a vaguely familiar voice announced, "Yeah, he's awake all right."

"He's not."

"Is."

"Is /not/. Stop prodding him like that!"

Taketo was already tired of listening to this conversation, so he opened his eyes. Two eyes were staring back into his own. "Salsa?" he said.

"That's an insult, right?" Wolf said, eyes narrowing.

"Wolf!" Taketo yelped, fully awake and pressing back into the pillow. "Where's --"

"Ah, Iwase-kun, you are awake!"

"Told you," Wolf said smugly.

"Tanaka-kun? Why are you -- oh, wait." He looked around. "This is the hospital?"

"It's the hospital!" Tanaka affirmed. "You're fine, the police --"

"Where's Salsa?" Taketo interrupted. He levered himself up on an elbow, and could see that Wolf and Tanaka, of all the unlikely people, were the only ones in the room with him.

"He's fine, too," Tanaka said. "You can see him later."

"Why can't I see him now, instead of, uh --"

"Wolf-sama, who saved your ass?" Wolf said, annoyed.

"Saved me," Taketo said, "from what?"

"He said you didn't come back to your apartment, so he went out to look for you," Tanaka said, eyeing Wolf with dislike.

Wolf shrugged. "Real easy smell to follow. Wolf was just gonna dig a hole and dump the body, but the Dog said not to -- dunno why. Said you needed to go to the hospital, too. So Wolf had to call the cops." Wolf frowned at the thought of police, but then brightened. "Hey, it was just like on TV."

"Body," Taketo said, now remembering. "Oh. Oh yeah." He couldn't recall the name Shido had given that guy, but then Taketo thought he had extenuating circumstances for the social lapse. His brother was no doubt freaking out; he'd probably want to hold Taketo hostage himself for at least a month to keep anyone else from doing it again.

But, more importantly, 'the Dog said' meant that Salsa really was all right then -- Taketo felt a tight knot of anxiety loosen in his chest. He still wanted to know why Salsa wasn't there, but Tanaka was clearing this throat.

"Iwase-kun," Tanaka said, nervously pushing his horn-rims into place, "your brother only left because we said we'd stay with you . . . and, uh, not fight, yes. But before he comes back to talk to you, I, well . . . since we're friends, my sensei has asked me to . . well, that is . . . he felt that . . ." He coughed, turning red and clutching at his clipboard. "Iwase-kun! Please share with me your traumatic experience!"

"My what?" Taketo said, blinking.

"Your traumatic experience," Tanaka repeated, terribly sincere. "Because we're both men/, we can talk about these anguishing matters like /men do."

"We can?" Taketo said, still having no idea what Tanaka was talking about.

"Puppy there wants all the hot details," Wolf said. "He wants to take notes."

"Hot details?" Taketo said, a dire suspicion now forming.

"That's unsympathetic and, and /inhuman!/" Tanaka said.

"Does Wolf smell human to you?" To Taketo, he said, "He thinks that dead guy raped you."

"What?" Taketo shouted, bolting upright.

"Now now, Iwase-kun," Tanaka said, waving a hand weakly, "it's perfectly understandable that you don't want anyone to know, but the physical examination --"

Wolf was now laughing so hard he'd rolled out of his chair.

"Oh god," Taketo said. "Tanaka-kun, just stop right there."

"It's not funny," Tanaka yelled at Wolf, furious, "Iwase-kun was --"

"Dummy, that Salsa dog did it," Wolf wheezed.

"Saru-inu?" Tanaka froze, and blinked once. Then blinked again. "But Saru-inu's an anim--, I mean a . . . a he," Tanaka trailed off, appalled.

"Definitely a 'he'," Taketo muttered grimly; sitting up had introduced him to an all-new kind of ache.

"Definitely an animal," Wolf added, rolling on the floor. "Wolf's really glad he's here!"

"You!" Tanaka said, pointing. "How could you know something like that!"

"Use your damn nose -- he reeks of him," Wolf said scornfully. To Taketo, he said, "But you don't smell like 'fuck me now!' anymore, which means the stupid Dog finally did it."

As Taketo gaped at him, Tanaka blurted, "You didn't have to tell him /that./"

Taketo swung around to stare at Tanaka. "Tanaka-kun," he said, "you're not implying that I . . . that everyone was . . . ?"

"No no no, Iwase-kun," Tanaka assured him in a panic. "Not everyone! Only a wild-half would have smelled it!" Then, with his usual scrupulous fairness, he continued, "And probably the animals at that pet shop. And maybe any animals you'd meet on the street. And, well, Karasuma-sensei may have noticed. And --"

"Enough," Taketo cut him off, groaning.

"Wolf figured that stupid Dog just didn't know how," he said, tossing himself back in the chair and lacing his fingers behind his head. "Wolf would have taken care of it eventually, if he didn't." He added, matter-of-fact, "No Takahashi. Nice smell."

Tanaka and Taketo both stared at him in horror, and the barking outside hit a fever pitch.

"That barking," Taketo said, with a sudden realization. "That's not --?"

"Yeah, idiot's been running laps around the hospital," Wolf said. "Guess he's finally made it back to this side."

"But why doesn't he just come in?" Salsa's not . . . is he avoiding me? Again? Taketo thought.

"No no, Iwase-kun, he's not avoiding you," Tanaka said hastily. "But this hospital doesn't permit animals inside. That includes dogs, of course."

"Oh yeah?" Wolf said. "So what about --"

"I'm not a dog, I'm a student here, obviously!" Tanaka said angrily. "Iwase-kun, Saru-inu hasn't been able to change from a dog, he's stuck. He was that way when they found you, and --"

"Forget him," Wolf said flatly. "Now that you're awake, we've got something more important to discuss."

Taketo recognized the signs of Wolf in his 'or else' mode, even if Takana didn't. "Like?" he said warily.

"Like the clubs Wolf's going to," Wolf said cheerfully. He propped his boots on the bed, and leaned the chair back. "Yeah, as soon as you're out of here, we can go!"

"Feet," Tanaka gasped. "On the bed. Feet on the bed!"

"Shut up, puppy" Wolf said lazily.

"Wolf," Taketo said, slumping. "I know I promised to we'd all go out, but you can see that I haven't had time to --"

"Don't worry," Wolf continued blithely, "Wolf's already looked around. Wolf will bring that art girl from the park, and that --"

"Wait," Taketo interrupted. "Art girl from the park?"

"Yeah," Wolf said. "Wolf asked her to draw Takahashi, and she yelled at Wolf to go away. Said Wolf should be ashamed, that he was 10 years too early." He considered it a moment, puzzled. "Huh. Wolf doesn't know what that 'ashamed' stuff is." Then he smiled thinly, pleased. "But Wolf's got her scent now. Real nice. Like cats -- pretty tasty."

"Tasty?" Tanaka gaped at him.

Taketo just groaned. Fujieda must be home on some sort of break. Who would have guessed that her aggressive shyness was wolf-bait?

"Wha-at, you know that art girl?" Wolf said, looking at him surprised. "Great -- we'll take her. When Takahashi gets back, Wolf will give her to him." Taketo could even picture it: Wolf tossing Fujieda over one shoulder, a bag filled with her cats over the other, shouting, "Let's go! Hokkaido! Takahashi!" while she shrieked, "No! You're one hundred years too young! One thousand! Aren't you ashamed?!"

Taketo desperately felt the need for someone who'd understand his problems, not keep heaping more onto the pile. "Wolf," Taketo said, "I'm sorry, but I really need to talk to Salsa first."

"They're not going to let a dog into any of the clubs," Wolf said, confused.

"Maybe after I've talked to him, we can figure his problem out," Taketo said patiently. "See, I can't go anywhere without Salsa. I wouldn't have any fun."

Wolf studied him narrowly. Then he shrugged, and unfolded himself from the chair. "Dog it is."

Tanaka and Taketo both stared, as Wolf strode over to the window.

"Iwase-kun," Tanaka whispered. "What's he doing? We're on the second floor!"

Wolf unlatched the window, slid it aside and shouted, "Stupid Dog, shut the hell up!"

"Get out of the way, damn it! Taketo, I'm coming up there!"

A few moments later Wolf turned around dangling a furious Salsa by the scruff of his neck. "Huh, you're noisy and you're clumsy," he said. "So is Dog going to thank Wolf properly for saving him from going face-first into the wall?"

"Go to hell," Salsa snapped.

"Okay," Wolf said agreeably, turning back to the window, "you first."

"Wolf!" Taketo pleaded, "c'mon, please don't drop Salsa out the window!"

Wolf paused, considering. "Yeah, all right," he said -- he tossed Salsa over his shoulder instead, and he crashed into the far wall with a thump. "But he better sing good karaoke," Wolf added, warningly.

"You boondocks bastard," Salsa snarled, rolling to his feet. "Your ass is mine!"

"Hey, hey!" Taketo said, waving his hands.

"A weak doggie like you?" Wolf sneered. He stabbed out a finger: "Five drinks, and you'll be licking Wolf's feet!"

"/Ten/," Salsa shot back, "You'll be whining for your Salsa-sama!"

"/Twenty drinks!/" Wolf said, now delighted, fist shooting into the air. "Dog will be Wolf's bitch!"

"Wait a minute." Salsa stared, open-mouthed. He said, slowly, "What is this idiot talking about?"

"He was talking about going out to a club," Taketo said, collapsing back into his pillow. "You should figure out what the topic is before you jump into it, shouldn't you?"

"There," Wolf said, dusting off his hands. "Dog delivery, Wolf's fee in drinks."

"You! Saru-inu!" Tanaka was pointing a stiff finger at Salsa. "Don't tire out my patient! Or touch him! Or look at him! Or do anything else!"

"Like what?" Salsa said, perplexed.

"Stuff! Don't do it!" Tanaka said firmly, then stumped to the door. "Iwase-kun, I'm going to call your brother. /Right now./"

"Uh, okay," Taketo said. "Thanks?" But he was already running down the hall.

"Wolf will guard the door," Wolf said, striking a heroic stance.

"Just go home," Salsa snarled. "No one wants you here."

"Right, Wolf understands. Dog wants those nurses and doctors and police and reporters and friends to come in now," Wolf said, nodding. "Dog's an exhibitionist."

"Guard the door!" Salsa said, hurriedly. Wolf tilted his head expectantly, and Salsa ground his teeth. "Please, Wolf, would you guard the door?"

"Hnn," Wolf said, sauntering out. The door slammed.

"Since when are you Yoshiyasu's patient?" Salsa said, perplexed. "Isn't that grounds for malpractice?"

"Somewhere," Taketo told him, "there's a real doctor who's not dealing well with my male identity crisis."

"Your /what?/" Salsa said. "Am I supposed to know what the hell's been going on in here?"

"I've wondered, too," Taketo said. "Never mind -- just do not forget to remind me when I get out of here that we have to rescue Fujieda."

"Eri Fujieda?" Salsa said. "Rescue her from what, the French?"

"I'll explain later," Taketo said. "In the meantime --"

"In the meantime," Salsa said, "how are you feeling?"

"You can't tell?" Taketo said, surprised. "Um, headache, some rope burns --"

"Couldn't heal those," Salsa mumbled.

"-- and I think I might be sitting on a pillow for at least a week," he said. As Salsa went hangdog, he added, "But I'm sure that if I was expecting puppies Tanaka-kun would have called it to my attention."

"Taketo," Salsa said, appalled, "this isn't a joke."

"I wasn't joking," Taketo said, "not really."

"Taketo," he said despairingly. "I'm a dog. I'm attracted to /dogs/."

"I could tell." Taketo scratched his cheek with his finger. "Definitely a dog on top of me."

"You shouldn't have done that," Salsa said, looking away.

Taketo could feel him withdrawing. /Here we go again/, he thought, exasperated. "But isn't the question whether you're attracted to /me?/"

"Don't be an idiot," Salsa said bluntly. "Didn't they tell you? I'm a dog for good now. When that stone broke, I broke. There's no fix. You can see that."

"Salsa," Taketo said, "I want you to look at something." He reached up to unbutton the top button of his pajamas. "I had this idea." He undid the second button. "Your trigger has always been thoughts about things that excite you, right? Like walks, and soup bones, and brushing." He undid the third button.

Taketo looked down at Salsa, and noticed that his expression had gone glazed. "Salsa, why don't you just come up here where you can see this better?" Taketo said, patting the bed. Without argument for a change, Salsa put his front paws on the side of the bed, then boosted himself up as Taketo shifted aside to make more room.

He undid the fourth button, and parted the cloth. "I was positive it had broken, but you can see that the mark's still here. What I think happened is that it --"

The bed sagged under the additional weight of more Salsa, who was reaching out with a human hand to touch Taketo's full-moon mark.

"There, Salsa, see? That's what -- uhh, hey," Taketo said, as Salsa stroked the pad of his finger over the mark. "Salsa, wait --" Salsa had leaned in, and he swiped his tongue over the mark with a broad stroke. Taketo gasped: He'd felt that inside again, in the stone, like before. Salsa slid his hands over Taketo's chest, lapping at the mark. "Listen to me, Salsa," Taketo said, "you can't, not here --"

"Why not?" Salsa said thickly.

"We,we're in a hospital room!" Taketo said.

"But you want it right now." Salsa rolled on top of him, pressing him into the bed.

"I don't want it now," Taketo said, seizing hold of his pointed ears and tugging.

"You're lying," Salsa groaned, nuzzling his neck, "I can smell it."

Oh, Taketo thought helplessly. C'mon, not with Wolf sitting outside the door!

Salsa froze in place. Then he sat up abruptly, and reached out to jerk Taketo's pajamas back into place. Good point, he thought sourly.

In response to that, there was a thump on the door. "What? Keep going!" Wolf called.

"Damn it," Salsa said bitterly, rolling off the bed. Then Salsa lifted his hands, staring at them in wonder. "I changed," he said.

"You really didn't notice?" Taketo said. "I guess that answers my question." He sighed. "So your trigger's shifted a little, um, lower than your stomach. You're not going to be chasing dogs, at least not until the thrill wears off a little."

"Oh god, I'm Ginsei now," Salsa said, resting his head between his hands.

Taketo didn't have to ask what he meant anymore. "So is that so bad?" he said. "I think I'm the one with the problem here. My dog isn't cute at all. He's got a bad personality -- he's bossy and never does anything I tell him. He's got incredibly gross habits." He made a face of disgust. "I mean, he'll pee on anything that can't run away fast enough. And why would anyone want to roll around on a dead frog -- and then try to eat it, huh?"

"Stupid Taketo," Salsa mumbled, "doesn't understand anything /interesting/."

"No, I guess I don't," Taketo said. "But . . . I want you anyway. I can't help it."

"That's my fault. If I hadn't --"

"Stupid Salsa," Taketo cut him off, "when he doesn't even try to understand what I'm saying. I was right. It's exactly like Mirei."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, talk about it later," Taketo said, letting it slide for now. "That's my bag over in the corner, I guess my brother brought it. He's probably not in the mood for finding a half-naked guy in the same room with me, so why don't you put something on before he gets here?"

"Good idea," Salsa mumbled. He pulled over the bag, unzipped it, and began to rummage through the contents. "Thought you said this was your bag. Whose junk is all this?" he said, holding up a half-empty bottle of sake.

"Hey, keep your paws off Wolf's stuff!" came the shout.

"Okay, not my bag anymore," Taketo said wanly. "Just borrow some clothes off him for now."

"When your brother gets here," Salsa said, answering the unspoken worry that had been lurking in Taketo's mind, "just say you don't remember and stick to it. You got hit on the head, didn't you? So you had a concussion. They won't know it's a lie."

"But --"

"You want to tell your brother the truth? About what?" Salsa said. "How do you think he'd like to hear you did it with a dog?"

"Less than he'll like me doing with a guy, I guess," Taketo said.

"'Don't do as I do, do as I say'," Salsa muttered.

"What?" Taketo said.

"Nothing," he said. "Here's what's happened today. Your brother got called out because Wild Half sent one of his faxes to the police. He told them what the point of connection was that they'd been looking for with the killings."

/Aniki's going to be thrilled about that/, Taketo thought.

"Yeah yeah, I know he loves me. Anyway, I strongly recommended that they go talk to a certain doctor at a certain clinic." Salsa shrugged. "Right now, I'm sure they're discovering that the place was cleaned out in a hurry, which ought to be suspicious enough to suit them. If Shido was there as long as he said, he'll have trouble shifting the accumulation in time, so they ought to be able to get something out of it. Otherwise, we walk away like we usually do, let 'em draw their own conclusions."

"Shido's going to come back eventually," Taketo said.

"Yeah, he will," Salsa agreed. He looked at Taketo. "That's what life's always going to be like around me. You have a chance to --"

"After four years," Taketo said, "I've already figured that out. You know."

"Yeah, well, I guess you would have." Salsa slumped. "So what do we do about /that?/"

"It's up to you. I'm not your master anymore. I don't want a pet," Taketo said, carefully. "I wouldn't mind having a partner. But if you don't want to /that/, you don't have to. I'm never going to stop feeling the way I do about you, so you won't have to worry about going running out of power."

"Well, it's not like I need that either," Salsa muttered, looking away. He added grudgingly, "But I guess I could do it if that's what you wanted."

"Ha. Dog totally wants to do it!" came the helpful information from the other side of the door.

"Shut up!" Salsa roared, shaking a fist full of jeans. Then he looked at the jeans more carefully. "Hey, aren't these mine?" He pulled a tee-shirt out the bag, and emblazoned across the front was "I Love Ginsei!" with his picture.

"Well, no one's specifically told him not to take their stuff yet," Taketo said, trying for reasonable.  
"Cannot believe that asshole," Salsa said, fuming. "And these boots -- these are mine, too!"

"Then at least you know they'll fit," Taketo pointed out, watching an embarrassed Salsa squeeze himself into the Ginsei shirt.

"The other thing I've been wanting to talk to you about," Taketo said, "concerns you."

Salsa paused from stuffing his paw into the boot. "What?"

"My life," Taketo said, tired. "It's like one of those really bad TV dramas, where the misunderstandings keep piling up higher and higher." He ticked them off on his fingers: "I want Maria-san to stop sleeping in that hammock in her store every night because she refuses to admit she's in love with Aniki because she's got this weird idea he's in love with Karasuma-sensei. I want Aniki to stop getting plastered and sleeping with Karasuma-sensei because he's really in love with Maria-san. I want Ginsei to stop being patient and scary about it all." He sighed. "I want Aniki to stop using me as an excuse to put off talking to Maria-san. And I want Mirei to stop trying to force Miya-chan to date me because she refuses to acknowledge that Miya-chan already knows what she wants -- a lot like someone else I know."

Salsa stared at him, shocked. "You knew about all that stuff," he said flatly.

"I guess," Taketo admitted, shrugging. "In spite of you not telling me, yeah. But I've had my own problems -- I have school, and part-time jobs, and all the housekeeping at home, and a stupid dog who wasn't sleeping with me."

"Taketo . . ." Salsa said, flinching. "Fine, whatever. But I haven't forgotten, even if you seem to have, that your brother threatened to shave off all my fur the next time you interfered with his farce of a love life."

"But I can't help but care about all this," Taketo said, thoughtfully. "So that's what I wanted to talk about: I think the only solution to everyone's problems is for me to move out. With you. Before classes start again."

"And you'll be explaining that to your brother how?" Salsa said.

"Let's see. As a result of the blow to my head, I achieved enlightenment, and now I want to live as an ascetic hermit with my dog," Taketo said.

Salsa frowned.

"How about this then? I've been sleeping with one of my high school classmates for a few years now, that foreign-looking kid with the same last name. Now I want to live with him and my dog."

"Next, your brother shoots me." Salsa's scowl was fearsome. "With the same gun I got returned to him. You've got to be joking."

"No. And it's got the benefit of being true. I'm tired of lying to Aniki," Taketo said, "though I have to skip the part about that guy and my dog being the same person. Even though I've had to support a greedy canine, I've been saving up from all my jobs. I think I've got enough in the post office for the key money and the other costs for my own place, if Aniki will keep paying all the university fees. Might have to start with a ratty-tatami hole-in-the-wall, but --"

"That's a lot of money," Salsa broke in, staring at him. "Saving up /how long?/"

When this mark first went full, Taketo thought to himself, I knew I'd be spending the rest of my life with you. He shrugged. "For a while. It's up to you. You can go anywhere you want. But do you want to? Live with me?"

Salsa crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling. "Who'd want to live with someone as stingy as you?" he said.

"Good," Taketo said, from long experience of translating from Salsa. "I'm really glad."

"Yeah," Salsa said.

Relieved to have the hard parts out of the way, Taketo flopped back onto his pillow, idly puzzling over a weird image he'd just had of himself in a collar and a leash sprawled out on a tatami floor. No, wait a minute. That notion definitely hadn't been /his/. "A collar and leash?" he said. "Salsa, what the hell?"

"Eh?" Salsa said, starting guiltily. "What are you talking about?"

"Just now, weren't you thinking --"

"I wasn't thinking --"

From the other side of the door to the hallway came the shout, "Hot! Wolf's coming, too."

"So you were thinking," Taketo said accusingly.

"Wolf bastard, shut the hell up," Salsa bellowed.

"Wolf thought that one with the dog was good, too," he shouted back.

Salsa scowled and muttered, "What one with the --?" Taketo rolled over quickly, but it was too late; Salsa had caught sight of his face. "Oh," Salsa said, blushing.

"Wolf, just be quiet!" Taketo yelled.

"He's not going with us," Salsa said.

"Definitely not going with us," Taketo agreed.

The door to the hall slammed open, and Wolf bounded through waving yet another suspect cell phone, this one blue with a mass of tiny Gundams on the strap. "Don't worry! Wolf will call Takahashi," he said happily. "Wolf will tell him where we're moving!"

"Forget it, you asshole werewolf," Salsa said. "It'll be a psycho-free zone -- that means you're never staying there, and neither is that damned Shouhei Abe."

"_Not_ Abe," Wolf growled, eyes narrowing dangerously. "Takahashi."

As Wolf and Salsa descended into another of their flailing, snarling free-for-alls, Taketo began to wonder who else was going to be trying to move in with them. Resigned, he scrapped all his estimates and started calculating again for shares.

* * *


End file.
